Big Girls Don't Cry
by RMTNDEW
Summary: My name is Jayden. I see things. I live at Xavier's school For The Gifted with my father Logan, I'm in love with man named Scott, who Logan hates, and Scott's married to Jean, who just came back from the dead. I haven't gone crazy; just my life.
1. February Song

Disclaimer: Sadly, I own none of the X-Men or the rights to them. I also don't own the rights to the title of the story, which happens to be both a Frankie Valli and Fergie song.

Author's Note: This story is the forth, and last, story in a series I've written. If you'd like to start at the beginning you can read 'Confessions of a Broken Heart', 'Remember When It Rained', and 'Behind These Hazel Eyes' (in that order) by going to my profile. Although you don't have to read any of them before reading this. Like the others, I think it stands pretty well on its own. I do want to thank everyone for the reviews and amazing support you've given me over the past two years as I've written these 4 stories. I really appreciate ya'll hanging in to see what happens to Jayden and the rest of the X crew. I hope ya'll enjoy this one.

* * *

Big Girls Don't Cry

Know thyself.

That's what Socrates told us. It sounds simple enough. After all, if we don't know us, who does?

But it's not simple. As a matter of a fact, it's the hardest thing anyone can do. Because to know ourselves, we must also know our demons. We must know our faults and failures. What we can and can't do. We must know our strengths and weaknesses. We have to search over inch of our soul and know it.

My life as I knew it in the past two years had changed completely. Everything I thought I had figured out was wrong. What I believed was being challenged.

I had gone from living in northern California with my adoptive parents, whom I had been with for fourteen years of my life, only having broken memories of my birth mother and not knowing who my real father was, to moving to New York to be with my father, barely keeping a relationship with my parents, and having my birth mother die.

Getting to know myself was becoming more than just difficult; it was terrifying.

At this point, you're probably wondering who I am. Well, so am I.

My name is Jayden. I was nineteen years old and lived in Westchester, New York. And right then I was doing everything I could to hold onto my last shred of sanity. Which was proving much harder than I thought.

I stood in the bathroom, facing the mirror, and held the scissors close to my neck. The bathroom was an off white that reflected itself in the blades of the scissors. The floor, the sink, the bathtub, the shower curtain, the towels, the wooden blinds, they were all the same color white. A color that, in strong enough doses, made me feel as if I was going mad.

Or perhaps it wasn't the bathroom; maybe it was just me.

I took a deep breath and tried to calm my nerves. I knew I couldn't make the cut perfect; my hands were shaking far too much. But I could make it count. And that was all that mattered.

I held the scissors close to my neck and closed my eyes as I made the cut; it was too painful for me to watch.

When I finally opened my eyes, I saw the chunk of brown hair that I had just cut lying splayed across the white floor. I finally forced my eyes to look at myself in the mirror and saw my severely uneven hair reflected back in the glass.

I had decided that part of getting to know myself would have to involve me getting rid of the old me. The insecure, scared, hurt Jayden could only leave if I cut her away. And so with every snip of my hair, she slowly disappeared.

A few months before, I had woken up to find that I had cut my hair in my sleep. I had always taken such pride in my long hair that the discovery horrified me. My identity felt compromised. By hair. It was when I had started thinking back on it that I realized how incredibly superficial that was. So I decided that if my hair was my identity and I got rid of my hair, I could face who I _really_ was.

So I started cutting. Half an hour later, I had succeeded in turning my hair, which had been loosely hanging around my shoulders, into a short pixie cut. I was trying to even it all out when there was a knock on the door.

"Hey, you've been in there a while, you feelin' all right?"

It was Logan. My father. I had only met him a year and a half before, but he was more than anything I ever could have imagined. He wasn't married and didn't have any other kids as far as he knew, but he had stepped into his father role like he had been born to do it. That wasn't to say he didn't make mistakes, he did, but when it came down to it, he got all the stuff that really mattered right.

"Yeah, I'm fine," I called to him through the bathroom door.

"You feel like grabbin' something to eat?"

"Yeah, uh, just…just give me a few minutes," I said, suddenly starting to panic.

I hadn't told him about my hair cutting liberation plan and I was worried about what he might think. He was all for me getting to understand myself better, but sometimes he wondered about my methods.

"What're you doin' in there?" he asked, picking up on the note of panic in my voice.

"Nothing, just give me a second," I said, picking up as much of the hair from the floor that I could. I tossed it in the trash bin by the sink and listened as Logan turned and twisted the knob, shaking the door on its hinges.

He was worried about me, and rightfully so. All of my 'liberation' efforts before had involved me in the bathtub. Either trying to drown myself or nearly coming down with hypothermia while waiting from an answer from the universe. Of course at the time, it all seemed quite logical to me.

"Darlin', if I gotta jimmy this lock, I don't think Chuck's gonna be too happy if I screw up one of his expensive bathroom doors, but I'll do it. So you can either open the door or I will, you hear me?"

"Yeah, I heard you. Just hang on."

Chuck's real name was Charles Xavier. He was the owner and headmaster of a boarding school in New York, where I lived. The public thought it was just for gifted students. But the reality was that it was gifted _mutants_. Professor Xavier had invited me to live there the year before, and although it was a scary decision to make, it was one I never regretted.

But we weren't at the school. We weren't even in New York.

Three weeks before, I had come home from a trip to Canada in which I attended my birth mother's funeral, was attacked and nearly killed, and had taken the life of someone I believed would be better off dead. When I returned to the school, the first person I had seen was Scott Summers. I had been in love with him for nearly a year when I told him about how I felt for him. At first he had brushed it off, saying he could be what I needed and that he was still in love with his wife, who everyone believed to be dead. But when I came back and saw him that day, something changed. He told me that I made him happy and although he would never get over Jean entirely, he could see himself moving on with me.

I had gone through a lot over the few months leading up to that moment and right then, everything seemed to finally be getting back on track. My life seemed to lose the dark ring that had been wrapped around it. Everything seemed to be perfect.

And then she came back.

His wife.

Jean.

She wasn't dead after all. The Professor tried to explain to us that kinetic energy had kept her alive for nearly two years while her body remained under water. But aside from Jean herself, Scott and Hank McCoy, who took over her doctor duties while she was gone, no one seemed to understand how it had happened.

Now don't get me wrong, it's not like I actually _wanted_ her to be dead. I was thrilled she was still alive. Really. But under the circumstances, I was a little devastated.

Which brings me back to why I wasn't in New York. While everyone was welcoming Jean back and planning a recommitment ceremony for her and Scott, I was quickly having a nervous breakdown. So the Professor did what he had done to Scott right after he had lost Jean: He sent me away.

He had inherited a beautiful beach house in a small town in the panhandle of Florida when his parents had passed away. And when anyone started going mad in New York, that's where he sent them.

That's where he sent me.

And it had worked. I had grown up in northern California where my parents and I would make a trek to the beach sometimes twice a month, even in the winter. So despite it being a bleary, chilly mid-February, I felt at home. And because of that, I was finally able to grab a hold of my emotions and turn them around.

I had decided I had allowed myself to get too full of self pity, I was too dependent on other people, and that I had become too hard on myself. So I had made a list of things I wanted to change.

I started the change on the outside first: It was a visual reminder that I had changed on the inside and that I still had a long way to go.

Logan knocked on the door once again. "I'm givin' you to the count of five to open this door. If you don't, I'm comin' in anyway. So you better cover anything you don't want seen."

Logan was a great father. He came by it naturally. He had a need to protect the people he loved and he did it well. Sometimes a little _too_ well.

"One."

I grabbed the broom and dustpan and swept up the hair from the floor as quickly as I could.

"Two."

I dumped the hair into the trash bin.

"Three."

I stashed the broom and dustpan back in the closest where I had gotten them earlier that day.

"Four."

There was no way I could hide it. He was going to find out that I had just spent half and hour cutting my hair shorter than his one way or another. And it was probably best that I saved the Professor's door; they looked expensive.

"Five," he said, his voice not breaking his even, patient tone. Not even as I heard the 'snikt' of a claw as he prepared to unlock the door on his own.

I twisted the lock and slowly, tentatively, pulled open the door. I gave him a sheepish smile as he stared at me. "Surprise?" I said with a nervous laugh.

He swore as the single middle claw on his left hand slid back into his hand, hiding itself in his forearm with the others. "What did you do?"

"Does it look bad?"

"No." He was telling the truth, I could feel it, and that made me feel better. "But why did you cut it? I thought you liked it long?"

I shrugged. "I needed a change."

"Is that the only change you're plannin' on makin'?"

"What do you mean?"

"You're not gonna get tattoos and start piercin' yourself up, are you?"

"I don't _plan_ on it, no."

He looked at my hair, or lack thereof, and shook his head as he let out a sigh. "All right. Hop in the shower and get the hair off you and we'll get some dinner."

I nodded. "Okay."

He started to turn away but then stopped and turned back to me. "And it better not take longer than ten minutes for you to shower, either. Now that you don't have any hair, there's nothing for you to spend time on."

I smiled. "All right, I'll be ready in a little bit."

He looked at me for a moment. "This hair thing," he said, pointing at me, "does it have anything to do with summers?"

"No."

He cocked his eyebrow at me. "Does it have anything to do with Jean?"

I looked down at me feet, taking a sudden great interest in my gold toenail polish that was chipped. I wanted to ignore him, but it wasn't going to be that easy.

He walked into the bathroom, pushing the door open as he did. He kept moving until he was standing right in front of me, and we were toe to toe. "Does this have anything to do with Jean?" he asked again. And when I didn't answer, he didn't bother asking another time. He titled my chin up to look me in the eyes. "Why are you doin' this 'cause of her?"

"I'm not, really," I said. "It has more to do with her coming back than just _her_."

"What's cuttin' your hair got to do with her comin' back?"

"I felt like I was starting to get some things figured out, but when she came back, she changed everything.

He cocked his head at me. "And cuttin' your hair off, that helps you figure things out again?"

I laughed. "No," I said. "But it gives me control back over some aspect of my life." I let my eyes wander around the maddening white room once more before looking back to him and meeting his gaze. "It may not be much, but it's a start."

He nodded and I knew he understood. He bent and dropped a quick kiss on my forehead. "Whatever you gotta do, darlin'," he said. Then added; "If you were wantin' to take some more pictures today, you better hurry up or it'll be too dark comin' back to see anything."

"Okay."

He gave me another kiss on my forehead before leaving my bathroom, closing my door as he went out.

I moved to the bathtub to turn on the water in the shower so that it could warm up while I was getting undressed. When I was done, I looked at myself once again in the mirror.

The hair cut wasn't too bad. I had actually managed a pretty decent job. But it was definitely a big change and going to take a while for me to get used to. Although with my hair away from my face and gone, I could see that I looked more like Logan. The man it took me three months to figure out was my father. The man I looked so much like.

My normally tan skin had taken a pinkish tint to my cheeks from where I had gotten wind burn while running on the beach the day before.

The whiteness of the room seemed to illuminate my hazel eyes. Despite all of my features that looked like Logan's, my eyes looked the most like his. They had the same mix of green with flecks of gold. But it wasn't just the shape and color that looked like his; it was everything that reflected in them that did. Everything that shone through. I saw in my eyes what I saw when I stared into his. And that's what I loved the most about myself.

I looked at my reflection in the mirror and let out a sigh. I found it odd how I could both familiar and so _un_-familiar to myself at the same time. But I was ready for a change, but it hair, or scenery, or attitude. I welcome it with open arms.

I stood in the bathroom of a beach house in Florida at the beginning of February of my nineteenth year and I felt a change. I _sensed_ it. And I was prepared.

Know thyself.

That's what Socrates told us.

That's what I planned on doing.

* * *

"Ain't that about the fourteenth picture you've taken of the sun settin' already?" Logan asked.

We had just finished eating dinner at a small restaurant in town and we were walking back to the house. But what should have been around a ten minute walk had taken twenty minutes, and we weren't even half way there yet.

For Christmas a month and a half before, I had received a camera as a present. Hank McCoy, the school's doctor and chemistry and mathematics teacher, who also happened to be my best friend, had bought it for me. It was the kind that was used by newspaper photographers and allowed me to take one picture after another with no delay. Which I found incredibly fun and useful. Logan only found it annoying, or at least he acted like he did, anyway. But he had been extremely patient with me about it. He understood I was excited over having a new hobby that I was actually pretty good at. And when I asked him to, he would go out and walk with me while I looked for new things to photograph.

But on the walk back, I suppose he found my 'fourteenth picture' of the sunset to not be such a new thing. Especially since I had already had six rolls of film developed while I was there and a little less than half had been of either the sunset or sunrise.

I looked away from the horizon over to Logan. He looked perturbed, but he usually did. So I moved the camera to look at him and snapped his picture as he slid his half smoked cigar to the side of his mouth.

"Better?" I asked with a slightly sarcastic tone and a smirk.

He blew out the smoke from his cigar and let out a small, low growl. "At least it's something different," he muttered. "You ready to go back or do you need more pictures of sand and grass, too?"

I let go of the camera, allowing it to hang on the strap that was around my neck. "No, we can go now."

"Good."

He began walking once again along the sand covered sidewalk and I fell in step right beside him. After a couple of minutes, he stomped out his cigar and wrapped his arm around my shoulders, pulling me in close to his side. I wasn't sure if it was a sign of affection or just him trying to keep me from wandering off to take more pictures.

We were nearly back to the house when it started raining. So we ran the rest of the way there. But it didn't do much good; we got soaked anyway. When we stepped in the door, he pulled of his leather jacket and boots and I watched him shake the water from his hair. The sight of it made me laugh as he reminded me of a wet dog shaking water from its fur.

He looked at me as he was unbuttoning his blue flannel shirt. "You mind sharin' what's so funny?" he asked with a quirked eyebrow.

I smiled. "Nothing particular. Just you."

He studied me for a moment and then nodded. "Did your camera get hurt in the rain?" he asked as I sat down on the bench that sat by the side door.

"I don't think so," I said, pulling off me water logged sneakers. "I think it's pretty sturdy."

"Good. You want me to get a fire goin'?"

"Yeah," I said, pulling off my own leather jacket. "If you don't mind."

Professor Xavier's beach house was an older house. It had been built some time in the twenties or thirties. The outside had a huge porch that wrapped all the way around the whole building. The front had a porch swing and the back had a patio with some wooden whitewashed beach chairs and a couple of hammocks that Logan and I had spent some time enjoying.

The inside was relaxed and comfortable. There was a lot of white, beige, pale green and a faded rose color throughout the rooms, of which there was eight. Four bedrooms, a kitchen, a dinning room, a living room and a side room. The side room was where we had been instructed by the maid who kept the house while no one was there to take off our shoes to keep the rest of the house clean. There were also two and a half bathrooms. Although Logan and I had had the discussion upon discovering the half bathroom that if there's no actual bath in there, should it technically still be called a _bath_ room?

Aside from the rather lack of color in the house, I quite liked it. It had an old but simple way about it. It wasn't too terribly big, but it was a great vacation house and perfect for Logan and me. The two weeks we had been there, we had both spent quite a bit of time lying about on the couch in front of the fireplace in the living room watching TV.

We only had a few more days left before we had to head back home, and I was almost sad about leaving. Obviously the prospect of having to go back home and pretend to be cheery over Scott and Jean wasn't too appealing, but I was actually enjoying myself there.

Logan and I had left the school a few times over my year of living there. But we had always stayed in motels, hoping from one to another until we decided to go back home. But this wasn't a motel; it was a house. And I felt comfortable there with just him.

I moved through the living room on my way to the bedroom I had claimed as mine and saw Logan squatted down in front of the fireplace trying to get a fire started. I was making my way out of the room when I heard him swear.

"Are you okay?" I asked.

"Yeah, I just dropped my lighter in the fire."

I looked over my shoulder and saw him reaching his hand into the fire to retrieve his dropped lighter. When he pulled it out, his hand was red, his skin burnt. I watched as it quickly began to heal, soon looking as if he had never been burnt at all.

"Seriously, was a lighter _that_ important?" I asked.

He looked over at me. "Marie got it for me," he answered simply.

Marie, or Rogue as everyone else knew her, was head over heels in love with Logan. It hadn't taken me too long after meeting her to figure that out. It did, however, take some time for me to catch on to the fact that he was also in love with her. To begin with, I had been strongly set against it. She was only a couple of years older than me and I couldn't imagine her ever being with him. As a matter of a fact, I _hated_ her. It took me months to finally be able to be around the two of them without getting sick. Once I got passed that, I realized there was no legitimate reason for me to hate her. We had started getting closer but I had put her on my list of things I wanted to change; if Logan wanted to be with her, I needed to completely get over my problems and do my best to make friends with her. So despite thinking reaching into a blazing fire just for a lighter was a little over the top, I didn't say anything. I just rolled my eyes at him.

After watching his hand heal third degree burns in less than a minute and successfully keeping my dinner down, I continued to my room. I stripped off my wet clothes and pulled on some dry pajamas before taking my other clothes to the bathroom. Then I joined Logan back in the living room. He had the fire going, the TV on and was flipping through the channels. I sat down on the couch beside him as he stopped the TV on the History Channel where they were airing a special on Hitler and the Nazis.

"You know," I started, "I never quite understood how Hitler's idea of the perfect race could be blonde hair and blue eyes when he himself didn't even look like that. It seems to me that if you were going to try to turn the world against a certain set of people, you would make sure you weren't one of them."

"Yeah, but you forget that Hitler was psychotic."

"You're psychotic; you don't go around attempting to exterminate whole races of people."

"I'm a different kind of crazy, darlin'. It's not the same."

"But how can someone be that way? How can you hate someone because of how they look or how they're born?"

"Don't know. Never much understood it myself."

We were both quiet for a few minutes as we watched a man who had escaped a concentration camp talk about his life before the Nazis took over. When it went on commercial I couldn't hold back a question I had been thinking about.

"Logan?"

"Hm?" he grunted out as a reply.

"Do you think…" I paused and saw him look at me from the corner of my eye. "Do you think I'll ever be able to get over Scott?"

He let out a sigh and ruffled the back of his hair with his right hand as he wrapped his left arm around the back of the couch, letting his hand rest on my shoulder. "I don't know. I wish I did, but I don't. I know eventually you'll move on. But I don't know about gettin' over him."

"Do you think I'll be okay with seeing him with Jean?"

"I don't know about that either, kid."

"Are _you_ going to be okay seeing him with her?"

He looked at me. "What do you mean?"

"I know how you felt about her. You loved her and you thought you lost her. Now that she's back are you going to be okay seeing her with Scott?"

"Me and Jean…we never were anything and we never will be. Doesn't matter that she's back now or not."

"Because of Marie?"

"Yeah."

"You know, I don't hate her anymore."

He gave me a smile that looked more like a smirk. "That's good."

I snuggled up to his side, resting my head against his chest. "We have to go back home soon, don't we?" I asked.

"Yeah," he said. "But you're gonna be fine."

"I know. It just hurts right now."

"I can always break his legs, you know?"

I laughed. "I'm not sure that would do any good, but I'll keep the offer in mind."

I watched the fire inside the fireplace dance atop the logs. I listened to it crackle and pop as the wood burning. The smell was oddly comforting and the sound was calming. I watched the fire until I found my eyes too tired to stay open and they fell shut. A few moments later I felt a blanket being wrapped around me and I snuggled closer to Logan.

"Night," I mumbled sleepily. "Love you."

I felt his lips press against my left temple in a soft kiss. "Right back at'cha, kid."

* * *

I see things. And no, I'm not talking about hallucinations. I'm talking about the real deal. I have visions. The proper name for my mutation is clairvoyancy. Along with seeing things, I also have a strong intuition. So I can sense people's true emotions, even when they do their best to hide them. I was agile and moved smoothly, like a cat, which had earned me the codename Lynx from Scott. And on top of all of that, I had inherited Logan's keen senses, though mine weren't nearly as strong as his. But mostly my mutation was invested in my clairvoyancy. I had been having visions for as long as I could remember.

Some are of the future, of things that are yet to happen. Of events that can be changed.

And some are of the past, of things I can't change. I can't fix. I'm helpless to do anything but watch.

Those are the ones I hate the most. They're also the ones I see the most.

I was in a room. It was dark. And wet. The floor was made of concrete and I couldn't see more than four feet around me each way. But I had been there before, and I knew that even when lit, the room was all the same.

There was a man, sitting in a chair, in the only lit part of the room. He was naked and blindfolded. He was strapped to the chair with thick leather straps around his chest, his arms, wrists, shins and ankles.

I couldn't see anyone in the room, but I knew they were there. They were always there. They were the ones that watched him. They were the ones who tortured him. They stood in the darkness, waiting, watching, until one of them finally stepped forward.

He didn't say anything. He walked right up to the man in the chair, took off the glasses that sat perched at the end of his nose and peered at his prisoner's face.

The prisoner was Logan.

"Hello Weapon X," the man said, his top lip turned up in a smirk as he realized his words made Logan stiffen in his seat. "Are you ready to get started?"

Logan let out a growl that started low in his chest and grew louder as it escaped his lips.

The man just watched him as he continued to smirk. Then he turned around and spoke into the darkness. "Get your things men." There was a sound of shuffling and a few minutes later two men came from out of the shadows. They were carrying a faded black duffle bag. They carried it to where the man, Stryker, was standing beside Logan, and dropped it to the floor. "You may begin."

They opened the bag and began pulled out its contents; a hammer, a drill, nails, and sharpened wooden skewers.

And then they went to work.

One of the men took the hammer and handed one of the thick, rusted nails to the man who he was working with. He placed it on top of Logan's hand, in the center, and then nodded to his partner with the hammer.

And he swung it.

The hammer drove the dull nail into the top of Logan's hand, embedding it in his flesh.

Logan was blindfolded and the sudden surge of pain caught him off guard. He opened his mouth and let out a growl of pain.

The man with the hammer continued until the nail had been successfully hammered through Logan's hand and into the wooden arms of the chair.

And then they repeated it on the other hand.

When they were done, the man who had been steadying the nails picked up one of the wooden skewers. He placed the sharpened end under the tip of Logan's fingernail on his left thumb, and the man with the hammer swung, driving it under his fingernail. Then he swung again.

And again.

And again.

He drove the skewer halfway under his thumbnail, and then began on his left index finger. Then the next. And the next. And the next until they had driven all of the skewers underneath all ten fingernails.

Then he grabbed the drill. He placed the drill bit to his left knee cap. And then they drilled into his knee.

The scream that came from his chest was primal sounding. It was inhuman. It rang in my ears, the sound piercing my heart. I felt all of his pain, and his rage, and his fear. And I wanted to stop it. But I couldn't.

I watched as the man, unflinching, removed the drill bit from his kneecap. It was covered in blood and had bits of skin attached to its tip. He then moved it to his right knee and continued to process. When he was done, I watched in horror as he stood, moving the drill to his forehead. I felt it as it began to cut into his skin.

And then I woke up screaming.

I sat up in bed and it took me a few moments to reinsert myself back into reality. Once I did, I stopped screaming. I was still trying to catch my breath when Logan came into my room.

"You all right?" he asked, standing in the doorway.

"Yeah," I said, nodding. "I'm fine."

"Do you need me to stay with you for a little while?"

As part of my list of changes I had wanted to make, I had written at the top that I needed to stop depending so much on Logan. I needed to be able to stand on my own. Whenever I had bad visions before, he would get in bed with me so that I could sleep. He had a way of keeping the monsters at bay and driving away my nightmares. But the problem was, I was going to be twenty in just six months and I couldn't keep running to my daddy every time I had a bad dream. I had to learn to fight my own monsters.

So Logan and I discussed it and I had gotten some tips from Hank. He suggested when I had a bad vision, Logan should sit in my room, where I could see him, but to stay in the bed by myself. After I got used to that, he said I should take a picture of Logan and keep it by my bed, so that if I woke up in the night alone and scared, I could look at his picture and feel safer. The hard part about that idea had been to get a picture of Logan where he wasn't scowling at the camera.

I let out a sigh as I looked up at him in my doorway. My breathing had finally gotten back under control, but I was still a little shaky.

"Yeah, I want you to stay," I said.

He moved from the doorway and stepped fully into my room. He pushed my door to, but didn't close it all the way. A line of light spilled in through the crack and fell across the floor. We had moved one of the chairs from the dining room into my room so that he could sit beside me when I needed him. And that's where he sat.

I lay back down in bed and looked over at him. "Was it a bad one?" he asked, referring to my vision.

"Well," I said, turning on my side towards him, "it wasn't a good one."

He gave me a smile in the dark and I smiled back. "You just gotta remember they ain't hurtin' me anymore."

"I know."

For nearly two years I had been having visions of Logan from when he was tortured some twenty odd years before. When they first started, I didn't know he was my father. I just knew he was different than anyone else I had ever seen. And I couldn't get him out of my head. So I found him. After two months of being gone and getting to know him, I found out who he was and everything finally made sense. When I moved to the school, the Professor helped me to understand my mutation and while he explained how it worked, he told me that Logan's mind and mine were linked together far closer than anyone else's he had ever seen. As a result of that, he could sometimes see what I had seen. He had relived many of his own nightmares by looking into my eyes and seeing my visions. But I tried to protect him from them as much as possible.

"Hey Logan?"

"Yeah baby?" he said, trying to settle into his chair.

"I've been thinking."

"Is it the kind of thinkin' that leads to me spendin' money?"

"Not really."

"Alright then, go on."

"Well, I was thinking, I know we were planning on staying here until the end of the week, but maybe we could leave sooner."

He cocked his head to the side and raised his eyebrow at me. "I thought earlier tonight you didn't want to go back? Why do you wanna leave sooner now?"

"Well, that's the part I was thinking about. I thought I might as well get it over with, you know? Face my fear head on kind of thing."

"You sure? 'Cause we can stay here 'til Friday."

"Yeah, but today's Wednesday, so if we leave today, or in the morning rather, we can get home before Friday," I said. "I mean, if you don't mind leaving a little early?"

He let out a laugh. "Yeah, I'm gonna mind leavin' the beach," he said sarcastically. "I'm not exactly the sand and ocean kind'a person, darlin', it ain't gonna bother me one bit if we leave tomorrow."

I smiled at him. "Thank you."

He smiled back and gave me a wink. "Don't worry about it," he said. "Now go to sleep. I'll be right here for now."

"Okay. Goodnight…again."

He shook his head, but kept smiling. "Yeah, night."

All of my life all I wanted was one person I could connect with. But for eighteen years, I never had it. And because of that, I felt alone. It wasn't until I met Logan that I realized what I had been missing. We were in no means perfect, both of us had our own personal flaws, and faults, and quirks. But together…together we made sense. And I knew that as long as he was with my somehow, I could make it through anything. I could face my greatest fears. I could fight my own monsters.


	2. Grown

Disclaimer: I don't own the rights to anything X-Men or Marvel, nor do I own the rights to the title of the story which is named after a Fergie song that I quite like. But I did just save a bunch of money by switching to Geico. ;)

* * *

I was in a dead sleep, completely content in a very rare night where I wasn't seeing any bad vision. As a matter of a fact, I didn't remember seeing anything at _all_. I was in the middle of enjoying this blessed silence when I felt two fingers being jabbed into my ribcage. I smacked the hand away, but it just went right back to jabbing me.

"Stop it," I mumbled.

"We're home, kid," I heard Logan's voice whisper in my ear.

I finally managed to pull myself from my deep sleep to look around me. And sure enough, we were sitting in the garage of the school.

"Cool deal," I said, still sleepy. I gave a bit of a stretch, popping the muscles in my neck as I rolled it. "Let's go to bed."

He laughed as we both climbed out of the car and began pulling our bags from the trunk. We had left Florida Wednesday morning and drove straight up to New York, stopping only to sleep and eat, so that we arrived back at the school by three AM Friday morning.

Together the two of us walked through the school and the more I moved, the more awake I became. And by the time we were in the main foyer, I felt wide awake.

"Hey, I'm kind of hungry, I'm going to grab something to eat," I said to Logan as he was heading towards the stairs.

"It's three in the mornin'," he deadpanned.

"I know, but I haven't eaten anything in like, seven hours."

"All right. Give me your bags and I'll take 'em to your room."

I handed him both of my bags. "Thanks."

"Don't stay up too late, okay?"

I hugged his neck and gave him a kiss on the cheek. "I won't."

He turned and began up the stairs and I headed for the kitchen. When I got there, I found a bit of a surprise: Scott Summers was in the kitchen, standing by the refrigerator, the door wide open, and drinking straight out of a carton of milk.

"Remind me to never drink the milk unless I open it first," I said. I heard him choke and then spit out the milk. When he turned around to look at me, it was dribbling down his chin and had soaked the front of his shirt. "You got a little something on your chin there, Summers."

"What are you doing here?" he asked, wiping the milk from his face.

"I _live_ here," I said, leaning against the doorframe.

"Yeah, I know, but I didn't know you were coming back so soon."

"We decided to come back a few days early."

"And you thought since you were home you might as well raid the kitchen at three in the morning?"

I cocked my head at him. "I'm sorry, but isn't that what _you're_ doing?"

"Yeah, but I'm not scaring people," he pointed out, taking a roll of paper towels and using a couple to mop up the milk he had spit out on the floor.

"Well, I didn't mean to scare you," I said. "Are you also frightened by things that hide under your bed and go bump in the night?" I gave him a smug smirk and walked over to one of the cabinets.

"No," he said, pulling his white T-shirt off, "just the ones in my closest."

I looked at him and felt my heart start pounding in my chest. My mouth went dry and my palms started sweating. I thought I was going to be okay being around him, I thought I was prepared to see him again. But I hadn't thought he would pull off his shirt while I was standing right in front of him. I tried to avoid looking at him, but no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't stop myself.

"Is there anything good to eat?" I asked, doing my best to keep my attention on the contents of the cabinet.

"There's some Count Chocula up here," he said, moving over beside me.

He reached up into the cabinet that I had been staring into, but had yet to process what was actually _in_ it. My heart had been pounding when he was ten feet away from me, but once he was standing only a couple of inches away, I was getting dizzy from how close he was to me. I could literally feel the heat coming off his body. My breathing felt like it had completely shut down.

Couldn't he just put his shirt back on?

"I put it on the grocery list because we were out and I know you like it," he said, pulling the cereal box down and handing it to me.

"Thanks," I mumbled quickly, taking the box from him. But he wouldn't let go. Finally I looked up at him and realized he was staring at me from behind his glasses. "What?"

"What happened to your hair?"

"Oh," I said, reaching up to touch what was left of it with my free hand. I had already gotten used to how short it was. "I cut it."

"Why?"

"Just something different," I said with a shrug.

He nodded. "It looks nice, I like it."

"Thanks." I took the box of cereal from him and took a bowl from another one of the cabinets before pouring the cereal into it. "Did you spit all of the milk on the floor, or is there some more?"

He gave me a smile, the kind that showed his dimples and made my knees weak, and let out a soft laugh. "No, there's another _unopened_ carton in the refrigerator," he said, moving away to retrieve the milk.

I found a spoon and took my bowl to the island in the center of the kitchen. He handed me the milk and when I was done with it, he put it back up for me. After I was seated on one end of the island, he poured himself a glass of orange juice and sat safely on the other end. There were a few moments of tense silence and I could feel him staring at me, despite keeping my eyes deadlocked on my Count Chocula.

"I'm sorry," he finally said.

I was forced to look up at him for that. "For what?"

He ruffled the back of his hair with his hand and didn't speak for a moment. "For everything I put you through."

"Pardon?"

"I know I really hurt you when Jean came back. But I promise you, I never intended to. You have no idea what you mean to me, Jayden. If I could have done anything to have kept you from getting hurt, I would have, but -"

"I know," I said, cutting him off. "I want to be mad at you, but I can't be." I pushed a bat shaped marshmallow around in my bowl with my spoon before looking back up at him. "You mean a lot to me, too, Scott. You're one of my best friends and I fell in love with you. And I've _tried_ hating you, believe me, but it just won't work. When I left, I was confused and right now I'm just a little hurt."

"I'm _so_ sorry," he said and I could feel the earnestness in his voice. He really was sorry.

"I want to be able to still be friends with you, but I really don't know if I can do that right now. Because I have to take care of myself and make sure I can handle a different type of relationship with you."

"I can wait," he said. "And if you ever need to talk, I'm still here for you. Jean being back doesn't change that fact, okay?"

I gave him a short but genuine smile. "Yeah, okay."

He nodded, returning my short smile one with of his own. "So did you have fun in Florida?"

"Yeah, it was pretty nice."

"Did you get a chance to do anything?"

"We ate out a lot."

His smile grew wider. "Did you eat at Dirty Nelly's Pub?"

"Yeah."

"I loved that place. I think I ate there about twelve or thirteen times when I was there."

"I liked it, yeah. Logan ordered a plate that came with frog legs and made me eat one."

He made a disgusted face. "Were they any good?"

"They sort of tasted like fish, but had the consistency of overcooked chicken."

"That sounds kind of gross."

"They weren't too bad. I was actually a little disappointed; I was expecting them to taste a little more exotic."

"Since when do you like exotic things?"

"Since I decided I'm tired of being scared of everything. Why not try something new every once in a while?"

"I'm all for trying new things, but I think I'll stick with my steak and hamburgers and leave the frog legs to you and Logan."

"I'm sure he'll forever be grateful to you for that," I said jokingly, finishing the last of my cereal.

He took a sip of his orange juice and seemed to ponder something for a moment. "Your school called today," he said, after a long moment.

"What did they say?"

"They said that they would consider allowing you to come back if you would agree to admit that it was you that assaulted the four students that were injured last month."

I had been suspended from my college for two weeks back in December for getting into a fight. A guy had thrown a fifteen pound medicine ball at my head. So I broke his nose. And his tailbone. I had also broken the nose of his friend who had tried to stop me. When I had gone back, it was after everything with Scott and Jean had happened and I was a wreck. My first day back I was in another fight. I had sent them all to the hospital for various broken bones and had been suspended yet again, for a month.

"Why haven't _they_ told them that I was the one who hit them?" I asked.

"I don't know," he said. "Maybe it has something to do with the fact that a girl took on four boys all by herself and didn't have much more than a busted lip, while they had to go to the emergency room for casts and stitches." He gave me a sly smile as he finished off his orange juice. "Or something like that."

"They started it."

He laughed. "Very mature, Jayden."

"Oh, I forgot you were the epitome of maturity, Mr. Drinks-Out-Of-A-Milk-Carton."

"I was finishing it off, thank you. I wasn't planning on putting it back."

"Say what you want; I'm never drinking anything I know I haven't opened first."

"Why? Are you afraid of catching cooties?" he teased.

I was about to remind him of the fact that he had kissed me without making me sick, that drinking after him wouldn't be a problem. I had my mouth open to say it, when Jean walked into the kitchen. I closed my mouth.

"Scott, what are you doing up this late? It's past three in the morning."

"Uh," he stammered, looking at her, me, and then back to her. "I got up to get something to drink and Jayden came in."

Jean tucked her long red hair behind her ears and blinked, looking confused. "I thought she was in Florida with Logan?"

"We decided to come back a bit early," I said.

In five minutes of talking with Scott how we used to talk, I had forgotten that Jean was back.

"Was everything okay?" she asked.

"Yeah, I just missed everyone."

"We miss you, too," Scott said. "Hank's gone crazy without you here."

"Maybe he'll make me some crepes for breakfast tomorrow. I've been dying for some."

"I don't think he'll mind," he said. "And now that you mention it, neither would I. He hasn't made any since you've been away."

"That's because he loves me more than you," I said, smiling at him.

He laughed but it was cut short by Jean clearing her throat. Then his expression turned serious: He had forgotten Jean was there, too.

"Well, I should probably go back to bed. I have classes in the morning."

"Yeah," I said, nodding my head. "Night."

He stood, took his glass to the sink, and moved over to where Jean was standing, still half asleep in the doorway. She looked tired, but she also looked upset. Although I couldn't tell if it was with him or me.

"Goodnight Jayden, I'll see you in the morning," he said, wrapping his arm around Jean's shoulder and began leading her from the kitchen.

"Okay, see you then." I gave him a short, forced smile as he left the room.

After he was gone, I sat alone in the kitchen for a while, thinking. I was at home, but things were different. Situations had changed. And I had only one decision to make: I could let it affect me, I could let it control how I reacted, how I behaved, how I thought. Everything.

Or I could choose to go on with my life. I could keep moving forward. I was young and I still had time to fall in love again.

The problem was, I was only used to doing the former, not the latter. I was used to being mopey and heart broken. If I chose to live that way, I would always have someone to blame for my problems. But choosing to be strong meant I had to take full responsibility for all of my emotions and what caused me to feel the way I did.

When I had first started training with Logan, I had a hard time when I would fail. I couldn't stand messing up. But when I would fall, Logan would always tell me to get back up, shake it off, and keep going at it. At some of the worst moments in my life, I would hear him telling me to get back up, to keep on going.

And that's what I had to do. I had to keep going. Sure, I could sit and be depressed but I realized that it wasn't going to get me anywhere. Life was short; I wasn't going to spend mine poisoned by hate and fear.

I let out a sigh as I stood from the island. I carried my bowl to the sink, emptied the leftover milk and rinsed it out. Then I headed upstairs. I had been wide awake, but I was starting to feel the pull of sleep on me once again.

I made my way to the second floor and onto the teacher's wing, all the while content with the idea of sleeping alone. But when I got to my room, it was lonely and dark. And even when I turned on the lights and changed into my pajamas, it didn't get better. I didn't want to be by myself.

I went back out into the hall and stared at Logan's door, trying to convince myself that I was too old to sleep in the same bed as my father just because I was scared or lonely. But bad habit die hard and I abandoned my bedroom door for his. I didn't bother knocking once I reached it, I just opened the door and went in. he was already fast asleep, sprawled out on his back and looking peaceful.

I approached him slowly, shaking him only slightly once I had reached his side. Without too much stirring, he opened his eyes to look at me.

"You okay?" he asked, blinking as his tired eyes tried to focus on me in the dark.

"Yeah," I said. "But I was wondering if maybe I could be a grown up tomorrow and sleep with you tonight?"

He grunted out a 'yeah' and began moving to make room for me. He gave me one of his pillows and pulled back the covers. I climbed in beside him and he tucked the blankets in around me.

"Better?" he asked.

"Yeah, thanks," I said, turning on my side, facing him.

He closed his eyes back, but after just a few seconds cracked open one eye to look at me. "You can always stay with me, you don't have to ask," he said, opening both eyes again and running his hand over my head, stroking my forehead with his thumb. "You know that, right?"

"Yeah," I said. "But I have to grow up sometime."

"Stayin' with me doesn't mean you're not a grown up." He rolled over onto his side and gave me a kiss on my temple. "Let me hang onto you for a while before you go growin' up, alright?"

"You're not going to lose me even if I do grow up. You couldn't get rid of me that easily, furry-face."

He gave me a sleepy smile, the kind that made his top lip curl up, and let out a small laugh. "Good," he said. "Now shut up and go to sleep."

I snuggled in closer to him, burying my face into the white cotton of his T-shirt that was pulled tightly across his chest. I let out a sigh and he put his strong hand on my shoulder.

I was getting older and I _was_ growing up, but sometimes I still needed to be comforted. And there was nothing more comforting than being in the arms of my father. It was there I felt the safest in the world. It didn't matter how old I got; he was my safe place, he was everything good in my life, and I had never loved anyone more than I did him. He was nothing short of my hero.

* * *

I woke up the next morning along. Logan wasn't in his room, but his side of the bed was still warm, so he hadn't been gone for very long. It took me a couple of minutes after waking to realize he was in the hall talking to someone.

It was Jean.

"I can talk to her if you want me to," she said.

"If she's got something to say, she'll talk to me," he replied.

"I'm sure she appreciates you being there for her. But she's a girl Logan; she needs other women to talk to. There are some things we don't feel comfortable talking about with men."

I heard him laugh. "You don't know her Jean, there ain't nothing she wouldn't tell me," he said.

"I didn't say she wouldn't talk to you about some things, I just said there are probably some subjects she doesn't feel _comfortable_ speaking to you about. I'm a woman and I'm a teacher; I know how to deal with other young women."

"I wish there _were_ some things she didn't feel comfortable talking to me about because there are some things I don't want to talk about with her, but she doesn't care," he said. "If she wants to talk to you, that's up to her. But I don't think right now would be a good idea."

"Well if she ever wants to, I'm open for her to talk to me," she said. "Or if _you_ ever need to talk to me, I'm here."

She was flirting with him.

I rolled out of bed and made my way to his door, then flung it open. Jean gave me a polite smile and Logan gave me the eyebrow.

"Good morning Jayden," she said.

"Morning," I replied back half heartedly as I leaned again against Logan's door frame.

"I'm glad you're awake. I wanted to speak with you."

"About what?"

"You know that this Sunday Scott and I are having a recommitment ceremony, right?"

"Yeah."

"Well, I saw some of the pictures you took in Florida that you sent to Hank. You have a good eye and you're very talented."

"Thank you," I said. "But what does that have to do with your ceremony?"

"We had a photographer line up, but unfortunately he's had to cancel because of a family emergency."

"Okay…" I said as Marie's door opened and she came out.

"Logan, Jayden, you're back," she said happily as she walked up to Logan and hugged him. "I missed ya'll."

Jean gave Marie a polite smile but I could tell she was annoyed that she was interrupting our conversation and that Logan was letting her flirt with him.

"I was wondering, Jayden, if maybe you would like to take the pictures for us?" she asked, taking control of the conversation once again.

"Oh, I…I don't know," I said, slightly surprised by her request.

"Well we would pay you, it just wouldn't be much. About three hundred."

"I uh, I'll think about it."

"Okay. I have to get to classes but you can come talk to me later this afternoon and tell me your decision," she said, giving me a bright smile. "I'll see you three later."

We all watched her walk away and I turned to Logan and Rogue. "Yeah, like I'm going to do that," I scoffed.

"Why not? You're goin' to the ceremony anyway, you might as well get paid for it," Rogue said.

"I'm not going, whether I'm paid or not."

"Why?"

"Because as much as I'm sure I would enjoy watching Scott declare his undying love for his undead wife, I've heard it a few times before. And it only managed to induce feelings of nausea and heartbreak. So I think I'll skip it," I said. "Besides, I think it'll be a little awkward if I go. Pretty much all of the school knows how I feel about him."

"It'll be awkward if you _don't_ go," she said.

"If she doesn't wanna go, she doesn't have to. No one would blame her for not wantin' to," Logan defended

"But if she _doesn't_ go, then it's gonna seem like he completely destroyed her life. Goin' to the ceremony will make her look like she's got better things to worry about," Rogue said. "Plus, I saw the pictures you sent Hank and you did a great job. Why not make some money doin' it?"

"Because three hundred dollars can't by my self respect," I said.

"It could buy mine."

I laughed. "I'll think about it."

"Good," she said. "Now what the heck happened to your hair? You look like Mia Farrow in 'Rosemary's Baby'."

"I've never seen that movie, but I do know who Mia Farrow is. And the answer to what happened to it is that I got tired with it, so I chopped it off."

"_You_ cut it?"

"Yeah."

"You did a pretty good job. If I tired cuttin' my hair like that, I would be a mess. Not to mention I couldn't pull of hair that short." She looked up at Logan and gave him a sly smile. "Now if I could only get him to let me cut his hair."

"I like my hair," he said.

"It needs to be cut."

"I agree," I said, moving from the doorway into the actual hall. "You're getting a little too furry for my taste." I gave him a wink and kept moving up the hall.

"Where are you goin'?" he asked.

"To my room. I'm going to take a shower and get something to eat."

"Don't forget to tell Jean you'll accept her offer," Marie called after me.

I turned around and began walking backwards down the hall. "I'm _thinking_ about it," I said with a smile.

When I reached my room, I closed my door and looked around me. The room was nice; it was on the teacher's wing so it was bigger than the dorm rooms the kids shared. Not to mention I had my own bathroom. I had the standard bed, closest, wardrobe, desk and single window. Nothing particularly spectacular, but my room was on the second floor and on the front side of the house, facing the street. And although traffic wasn't too inspiring, the views of the sunrise as it rose over the tree tops from the nearby park were beautiful. But that seemed to be about the only thing that sparked some excitement. The rest of the room was quite bland. I made the decision to ask the Professor's permission to make some additions to it. Maybe if I liked my own room more, I wouldn't be in such a rush to leave it for Logan's the next time I felt lonely.

I rushed through a quick shower that didn't take but five minutes. I was enjoying how low maintenance my new hair was. When I got out, I pulled on a pair of blue jeans and a T-Shirt. Then I headed down to the kitchen, hoping I might catch Hank. Unfortunately he wasn't there. Storm was. The two of us didn't get along very well. She was angry when I started getting close to Scott and when I was struck with a bolt of lightening at the end of the summer the year before, I was convinced that that it was her who had struck me, despite the evidence proving it was just a freak accident. I just stayed in the kitchen long enough to find out that Hank had already gone to class, so I left and decided to get some breakfast after Storm was gone.

I walked on into the hall and made my way to the main foyer. I wandered around it, contemplating going back to my room when I saw Scott coming out of the Professor's office.

"Hey Summers," I called to him.

He turned around and smiled at me. "Hey Rivers," he said. "What are you up to?"

I walked to where he was standing just outside of Xavier's door. "I was looking for Hank, but I think I got up too late; Storm said he was already in class."

"So you're just…roaming?"

"Yeah, pretty much."

"I have to get to classes too; do you want to sit in on them?"

"Not right now, but I might crash a few later. I've decided that I want to learn how to drive, so I should probably learn how a car works, eh?"

"Yeah. And if you need lessons, I can teach you how to drive. I taught Bobby."

When I had first arrived at the school, Scott had offered to teach my how to drive. For whatever reason I hadn't taken him up on it. Instead I had opted for Logan to teach me.

I smiled. "I just might take you up on that. My last driving lesson didn't end too well."

"I remember," he said, smiling back at me. "And if I'm not mistaken, you almost hit an old woman, right?"

"I didn't almost hit an old woman. She was like, fifty feet away. And I honestly don't even know why an old woman was there anyway. It was an empty lot."

He laughed. "Well, if you ever want me to teach you, I'd be more than happy to. Jean and I are leaving Sunday for Mexico, but we'll be back in two weeks. Anytime after that's good for me."

"Thanks," I said. "I should let you get to classes. But before you go, is the Professor still in his office?"

"Yeah. Do you need to see him?"

I nodded. "I was thinking about redecorating my room, making it a little bit happier or something. I just wanted to check with him before I did anything major."

"Okay, if you need any muscles to schlep your furniture around, I'll be back in two weeks."

I smiled and let out a small laugh. "Why do I have a feeling that if I could see your eyes, you would have just winked at me?"

He shrugged. "Because you're clairvoyant; your feelings are usually right."

I shook my head. "Well, you had better get to class. I heard some of the girls talking on my way down here about how they're going to miss you when you're gone."

I saw one of his eyebrows raise above his glasses. "Are you sure they were talking about _me_?"

"I don't know. They were talking about Scotty McHotty. I assumed they meant you."

"They called me Scotty McHotty?"

"Hey, it's not my nickname of choice for you, but you know kids these days; no imagination."

"Yeah, I don't want to know what kind of nicknames you would have for me," he said. "You better go see the Professor before he has to get to classes, too."

"Good point. I'll see you at lunch."

I turned and started for Xavier's door when Scott called my name. I turned back to him, pausing just outside his office. "Yeah?"

"Jean said you might be our photographer Sunday?"

"She offered it to me; I told her I would think about it."

"Look…I know you probably don't want to be there and I wouldn't blame you for not coming. I would understand if you said no."

I thought for a moment, thought about agreeing with him and going ahead and telling him that I wouldn't be at the ceremony, let alone taking photos of it. I really did think about it.

But I didn't say it.

"I wouldn't miss it for the world," I said with a small smile. "I just can't guarantee that the pictures will be any good, though."

"I saw the ones you sent Hank and they were great."

"Did _everyone_ see those?"

He smiled. "You should have seen him; he was showing the pictures to everyone like they were of his first born child. He was so proud."

"Well, if you want me to, I'll take the pictures."

"You know, people don't give you enough credit, Jayden."

I smiled. "I know."

"Stop by my class later, I'll show you how an engine works."

"I'll be looking forward to it," I said and turned back to the Professor's door. I didn't even get a chance to knock before he was calling for me to come in. I pushed open the door and smiled at him. "Knew it was me?'

He gave me a kind smile. "I could hear you and Scott speaking outside my door."

"So you know what I'm here to ask you about then?"

"About redecorating your room, yes?"

"Yeah."

"You don't have to ask my permission to decorate your room, Jayden. It's yours to do with as you wish."

I walked towards his desk, where he was sitting, and sat in the leather chair across from him. "I wanted to make sure before I started putting holes in the wall."

"Just so long as you don't _punch_ the holes in the walls, I don't think a few nails or tacks would be a problem."

I nodded. "Thank you."

"Do you have any idea how you would like to decorate your room?"

"Not really. But…" I let out a sigh as I pulled my feet up into the chair and hugged my knees. "While Logan and I were gone, I decided I want to be more independent. So I'm going to _try_ to stay on my own at night when I have bad visions. I thought I might be able to…feng shui it into some positive energy, or something. I really want to be able to stand on my own and if hanging a couple of happy pictures and rearranging my furniture can help me to be able to do that, then I want to at least give it a try."

"You know Jayden, we made excellent progress in our session together when you first arrived. You learned how to tell the difference between a vision that had happened and one that hadn't. You learned to pick up on very important visual clues to help you understand where the vision was taking place. You even learned how to block out the visions you were having throughout the day, didn't you?"

"Yeah. I mean, I still have a few that break through every once in a while, but you really helped me learn how to filter them out for the most part. I'm just having trouble with them at night now. And it's not even the ones of other people that bother me as much; it's the ones with Logan that really tear me up." I paused and shook my head. "I _hate_ watching what they did to him."

"Then I think we should work on that."

"You think you can help me stop seeing them?"

He smiled at me. "We can most certainly try."

"Thank you."

"Now, I believe Scott told you that your school called yesterday, did he not?"

"Yeah, he did."

"And I believe he told you their offer to allow you to return if you would admit to being the individual that caused the four students to go to the hospital."

"He told me that too, yes."

"Have you had enough time to think about their offer to make your decision?"

"Yeah," I said. "I'm not going to go back."

"May I ask why?"

"I don't feel safe there, for one. Those boys jumped me because of the fight I got into before winter break. _They_ started it, and the time before that, the other boy started it. If they had proper security cameras, they would know that. What if I go back and next time there's more than four of them? What if they do more than just try to fight with me?" I shook my head. "I just don't feel safe there," I said. "And I still don't understand why _I_ have to admit to anything; I thought all four of them named me as the one who did it."

"Before charges could be filed, all four boys recanted their stories. They told the police they had gotten into a fight with some other men at a bar."

"So…they're embarrassed?"

"That is how it seems," he said. "And while I respect your decision to withdraw from the university, I'm not very happy with the events that brought your decision about. I would like you to get a hold of your anger Jayden, before it consumes you."

"Yes sir."

He smiled. "Now, since you won't be attending school, I thought perhaps you would like to help around the house some."

It wasn't a question, it wasn't a request, he was telling me, in his polite way, that I _would_ be helping out. It was his punishment to me for getting into trouble at school, both of which times he had to bail me out of. So because he helped me, I had to help him.

"Yeah, what do you need me to do?"

"I would like you to clean up the gym. All you would have to do is wipe off the machines after they've been used, vacuum and clean the lady's locker room. Then, if you would, collect all of the dirty towels and take them to the laundry room to wash, dry and fold them. Then you may place them back in the gym."

"Okay."

"You can do this after all of the physical education classes are over for the day. But if you would like to assist Logan during classes, I'm sure he would appreciate the extra help."

"I can do that."

"You can start Monday. And I will only need you for a couple of weeks."

"I'll be ready for it."

"Great. Also, after you're finishes, I would like you to stop by my office so that we can work some more on controlling your visions."

"Just on Monday, or every day for two weeks?"

He smiled at me once again. "While I have no doubt that you could make tremendous success if we were to have a session every day, I think perhaps we should take it slow and just have one session a week."

I nodded and then stood up. "I had better let you go, I know you have classes soon and I'm going to grab some breakfast."

"Okay, I'll see you at lunch."

"Okay," I said, walking to the door. "And thank you Professor. I really appreciate your help."

"You're welcome, Jayden."

The Professor was always active in the students' lives and their development in their mutations. But somehow he always managed to make every one of them feel special. He was always so personal with them and took whatever time he could to help them. He was a brilliant teacher and a great man.

"And by the way," he said, "I love your new hair. It reminds me very much of Audrey Hepburn."

I smiled. "Thank you."

He was one of the best men I had ever met.


	3. Almost Lover

Disclaimer: I don't own the rights to X-Men, Marvel, or even the title of this song. But I am super freakin' excited about the new Wolverine movie. Enjoy.

* * *

"When did you come home?" Bobby Drake asked from my door later that day.

"Last night."

He nodded. "What are you doing?"

"I'm moving my furniture around," I answered simply as I pushed and pulled my bed frame until I had it over by my window.

"Shouldn't you get some of the boys to help you?"

I shot him a look. "Why? Do you think I can't do it myself?"

"No, I just think you might need some help."

"Then stop talking and help me. But I don't want a bunch of smelly, stinky boys in my room, clomping around with their dirty shoes."

"I thought only animals clomped, not people."

"Animals, teenage boys, same thing."

He laughed. "Nice, make fun of the kids."

I looked up at him from where I was standing between my wall and my bed. "Are you going to help me or what, _Iceboy_?"

"It's Iceman, and yeah; I'll help."

He walked into my room and helped me to climb out from behind my bed and push it the rest of the way against my wall. Then he helped me move my wardrobe to the other side of the room, and when I decided I liked it better where it had been before, he helped me move it back.

"So," he said, plugging in the lamp I had just moved from my desk to my nightstand, "I don't really know the rules, but can I actually ask about your hair, or is that off topic for guys?"

I laughed. "No, it's not off topic."

"All right, so why did you go all Domino Harvey all of a sudden?"

"Who?"

"Domino Harvey. She was a bounty hunter. Keira Knightley played her in the movie 'Domino'."

"Sorry, I've never seen it."

"Figures," he said, standing back up. "Anyway, your hair's shorter than hers, but it works; you can pull it off."

I smiled at him. "Thanks."

He moved over to where I was standing by my desk and leaned up against the wall. He stuck his hands in his pockets and looked down at my carpet. "The kids at school…they've been talking about you."

I looked up at him from where I was rearranging the contents of my top desk drawer. "Have they?"

"They all know you were the one who sent these guys to the hospital."

Bobby, Rogue and I all had gone to the same college. Bobby and I usually rode together and would meet up for lunch. It wasn't until we started going to college together that he and I got close.

"Well, you can tell them not to be scared. I'm not going to school anymore."

"You're dropping out?"

"Yeah."

"Since when?"

"I've been thinking about it for a while but I made my decision today."

"Why?"

"You said it yourself; the kids all know it was me."

"And they agree with you."

"Excuse me?"

"A few of them are talking about bringing complaints against the school board."

"I don't understand. Why?"

"Because they agree with you in the fact that they don't feel safe without the proper amount of security. They're also worried about all of the problems with the racist comments."

"They care that people are calling me a mutie freak? I thought they all hated mutants."

"So did I. But apparently the other students are worried that if the school allows some of the students to get away with making threats against the people they think are mutants that eventually it'll get worse and get out of hand."

"So they're not concerned so much about mutants being threatened in general, just that it might escalate to the point where students are being threatened because they're gay, or black, or foreign?"

"Pretty much. But at least they're speaking out about it before it gets too bad."

"That's true."

There was a small silence between us as I straightened up the top of my desk and put my chair back in a place in front of it.

"So I hear you're going to be taking the pictures at Scott and Jean's second wedding thing."

"How did _you_ know about that?"

"Rogue told me."

"I haven't even told her I was doing it for sure yet. How does she know?"

He shrugged. "It's a small school; word gets around."

I rolled my eyes. "This is ridiculous."

"I thought you had a crush on Scott; why agree to take pictures of him and Jean all happy and kissy and crap?"

"You're so eloquent Bob, it truly amazes me," I said sarcastically. "And I don't have a crush on Scott. I've told you before; we're just friends."

"And you can't be friends with someone _and_ have a crush on them?"

I moved to my bed and sat on the edge of it. "Okay, so what if I have a crush on him? What if I'm actually in love with him? What would it matter? Jean's back, he's with her now, and it doesn't matter how I feel about it. Scott _is_ my friend, he asked me to do something for him, so why not?"

"I think even though Scott's with Jean, he still kind of loves you, too."

"Why would you say that?"

He shrugged, moving away from my wall. "Guy's intuition."

"Guy's don't have intuition; that's why you all do stupid stuff."

"Then what's women's excuses for doing stupid stuff?"

"We try to make up for all your mistakes."

"Whatever. I still think he's, you know, kind of in love with you."

"And what good does that information do me?"

"I don't know. I think most girls would try to make him jealous."

I laughed. "I'm not most girls."

He smiled and started for my door. "That's true," he said. "But if you need help making him jealous, I can help."

"Bobby Drake, are you trying to take advantage of me in my fragile emotional state?" I joked.

He paused in my doorway and turned back to look at me. "No," he said. "I just think if I try to help you out with that, Logan might not hate me so much."

"You honestly think that pretending to date me would make Logan, who _doesn't_ hate you, start _liking_ you?"

"If it's to help you get back at Scott? Yeah. His hate for him is stronger than his dislike for me."

I smiled and nodded. "You're probably right," I said. "I'll keep your offer in mind."

He smiled back at me. "Good. I'll see you at dinner."

* * *

After four hours of rearranging, everything but my wardrobe had been moved to another part of the room. I had managed to move enough of my things around that one wall was completely bare. I had decided that I was going to cover it with pictures of my family that I had taken. I thought that over time I could have it completely covered.

And I was starting with Logan and me.

I had taken a picture of myself with Logan when we were in Florida. We had both been lying in one of the hammocks together. I thought he looked as content as I had seen him in a long time. So I captured it on film. I had scanned it using one of the school's computers and blown the picture up to an eight by ten before printing it off. The only picture frame I had to fit it was the one that held a picture of me with my parents. I was in the middle of removing it when Logan came in.

"What're you doin'?" he asked.

"Taking out this picture so I can put the one of us in it."

"You sure you wanna do that?"

"Why not?"

"I don't like your parents; you know that, so I ain't gonna lie about it. But are you sure you wanna take the only picture you got of 'em and replace it with something else?"

I looked up at him. "I love my parents, but…they're not a part of my life anymore, Logan. You are," I said as I sliced my right index finger on the side of the frame. "Crap!" I immediately stuck my finger in my mouth to suck off the blood.

"You okay?"

"Yeah, I just cut it a little bit."

He took the frame and picture away from me. He pulled out the photo of my parents and handed it to me. Then he put the one of the two of us in it and placed the back on the framed and fastened it before handing it to me.

"Thank you," I said, taking it back from him.

"Is that the picture you're gonna put by your bed that Hank told you to keep?"

"No."

"So where are you gonna put it?"

"That wall," I said, pointing to the empty wall across from my bed. "It's going in the center."

He looked over at it and then looked back to me, giving me the eyebrow as he did. "By itself? Isn't that gonna look a little funny?"

"No, because I'm going to put a bunch of other pictures up there with it. But you're going to be in the center."

The eyebrow went back down and I saw the tiniest of smiles tugging at the corners of his mouth. "You need help hangin' it?"

"Can you find the center of the wall? My sense of that type of things is way off."

"Yeah, you got something to hang it with?"

I held up a plastic box of tacks. "Will these work?"

He nodded. "Give me one."

I handed one to him and he took it and the picture frame and moved over to my bare wall. He looked at it for a moment, eyeballed it, then placed the tack into the wall before hanging the photo on it. Then he stepped back and looked at me for my approval.

"Looks good to me," I said. "Thank you."

"So who else are you puttin' up there?"

"I don't know. The only pictures I have of real people are of either you or me. So I'll have to take some of everyone."

"Like who?"

"I don't know. Hank, Rogue, Bobby, the Professor…"

"Scott?"

I shrugged. "Maybe, yeah."

"Jean? Storm?"

I thought for a moment. "Probably not."

The smile that had been tugging at the corners of his mouth just moments earlier returned. "So not _everyone_," he said.

"I don't know yet."

He folded his hands behind his back and walked up to me where I was sitting on my bed. He looked down at me and for a moment I wondered how that man could be my father.

He looked barely into his forties, despite being well over a hundred years old. But when you looked in his eyes, you could see his age. You could tell he had lived a long time and seen a lot of things. He had lived a hard life and he didn't make any excuses for anything he did.

Every man and boy I knew wanted to be like him in one way or anything. Whether they admitted it or not. He was free, brilliant, strong. He didn't like taking orders, but he was a good team player. He didn't want to be a leader, but he could step up and make decisions when they needed him to.

And he was my father.

He was in my room, standing in front of me wearing blue jeans and a wife beater, and smirking down at me. The man everyone envied in one way or another was getting a kick out of watching his teenage daughter admitting she didn't like someone.

He had rubbed off on me and he was enjoying it far too much.

"You know, I would hate Summers, not Jean. It wasn't her fault he did what he did to you. She didn't make him leave you."

"I don't _hate_ Jean. I don't hate anyone to be quite honest."

"Good, you're too young to start hatin' people."

"There's an age limit?" I asked with a hint of sarcasm in my voice. He gave me a look. "I don't hate Jean. I just…I don't like the vibes I get off her."

The eyebrow was back and arched high on his forehead. "And what kind of vibes are those?" he asked, looming over me.

"There were few times when he rattled me, but when he did, it was usually when he was looking down at me, his eyes fixated on mine, looking into my soul. I didn't like him being so far above me; I felt small, which made me feel helpless, and I hated that feeling.

"I don't know," I lied, looking down at my covers as I picked at a loose thread, doing my best to avoid his gaze.

"Yeah you do."

"I just feel like…" I let out a sigh. "I feel like she doesn't care about Scott."

"You're jealous," he said flatly.

I finally looked back up at him. "No."

"Then what?"

"What if Rogue fell in love with someone else? What if you felt they didn't really love her back? How would you feel?"

"It wouldn't matter how I felt; it wouldn't be any of my business."

"Bull crap."

He cocked his head. "Excuse me?"

"I said that's bull crap. If that happened to Marie, you would be out of your mind jealous and threaten to beat the living crap out of the guy you thought didn't love her enough," I said. "At least I haven't threatened to beat up Jean."

"Yeah," he said, "not yet."

"Jean's trained a bit longer than me, I think threatening her would be all I could do. I'm sure she could kill me with her mind if she wanted to."

"She's not gonna kill you."

"I didn't say she was, I just said she could if she wanted."

"And I could gut Scott, but I haven't."

"She acts on impulse."

"You don't know that."

"Yeah I do. She can't even control how she flirts with you," I said. "Or maybe she doesn't _want_ to control that impulse."

"When was she flirting with me?"

"This morning. I heard you two talking while you thought I was asleep. I heard how she was talking to you."

"There's nothing wrong with a little innocent flirtin'."

"There is when that person's married to a man I'm in love with and she's flirting with my father."

"So is this about her or me?"

"It has absolutely nothing to do with you. I know you love Marie; you wouldn't do anything to ever hurt her," I said. "But I don't know that she wouldn't hurt Scott."

"So you don't care that he's with her, you just don't want her to hurt him?" I nodded. He laughed. "You got something wrong with you, kid."

"Yeah, it's called actually caring about people. Something I'm not exactly used to yet."

"You don't like her 'cause of your crush on Summers."

I shot him a look. "Whether you want to believe it or not, I don't just have a crush on Scott; I'm in love with him. I don't want to be, it's the _last_ thing I wanted. I hate this. I hate that I feel this way. But I do."

"Why? Why fall in love with him? Why not someone who's not married? That ain't gonna run off and leave you for someone else?"

"Oh, right, because I actually _chose_ to fall in love with him," I said sarcastically, rolling my eyes. "I didn't have a say in any of this, okay? Because if I did, I wouldn't have picked him."

"Because he's a self righteous pansy, right?"

"No, because he's my friend and I would rather not have my life complicated any more than it already is."

He stared down at me for a moment longer and then nodded. "I'm goin' down to dinner. You comin'?"

"Yeah, I guess," I said, standing up.

He looked me in the eye and a felt a small chill run down my spine. He had a way of locking eyes with someone that made chills run through their bodies, and I was so exception. "You're _really_ in love with him?"

"Yeah."

"You sure?"

"I'm not sure of most anything, so no. But I've never felt like this before about anyone. I can't talk myself out of how I feel, or I would have by now. But if I'm _not_ in love with him and it hurts this badly, I don't think I can handle falling in love with someone for real. I couldn't take it."

"Bein' in love with someone doesn't hurt. It's just when you fall in love with a jackass like Scott who doesn't know how good he's got it that makes it hurt."

"You're just saying that because you're my father."

"Maybe," he said. "But I thought that before when I first found out he was married to Jean."

"You thought she was too good for him."

"I just didn't think someone like him deserved her," he said. "Or all of his bikes."

I cracked a smile and shook my head. "Are you comparing women to motorcycles?"

I saw him smirk slightly. "Yeah. But bikes don't talk back." I rolled my eyes. "You ready to get some dinner?"

"Yeah."

"Good. Come on."

Logan and I had a complicated relationship. I knew he loved me more than anything in the world, an unconditional love that couldn't be shaken. And I felt the same way about him. We could fight, and argue, and yell, and scream, and get mad at each other, but ten minutes later, we'd both be over it and laughing with each other again. He was the best thing that had ever happened to me and I did my best to never take him for granted.

* * *

There's a girl. She's in a hospital bed and she's paralyzed. She has short brown hair and dull brown eyes. But when she realizes who I am, her eyes light up and there's an evil shine to them. She explains how I know her; she believes I ruined her life by seeing her getting hit with a semi-truck in a vision. She tells me she's the one who made her father kill all the girls she thought could be me.

She tells me that she's the one who's been living half inside my head, making me do and see things I can't remember. She says she made me kiss Scott our first time because she knew it would ruin our relationship. She's the one who changed my appearance, taking away how I resembled Logan because she hated me. She hated that I was happy with him because she hated her father.

Then I kill her.

I woke up screaming. As I sat up in bed, I had to work to control myself in order to stop my screaming. Soon the yells subsided, but I was left panting. I was still trying to catch my breath when my door flung open. Expecting it to be Logan, I immediately began explaining it wasn't visions of him that had left me crying out in horror. I was in the middle of telling him to go back to bed, that I would be fine, when my eyes adjusted to the light and I realized it wasn't Logan.

"Scott?"

"Did you think I was Logan?"

"Yeah," I admitted. "Sorry."

"It's fine. Are you okay?"

"I just had a bit of a bad dream, but I'll be fine."

"Is everything okay in here?" Jean asked, appearing at Scott's side.

"Yeah," I said.

"Did you have a vision? Do we need to call Storm?" she asked.

Right after dinner, the team had been called on a mission. Storm led it and took along Bobby, Rogue and Logan. I had forgotten about them being gone, which was why I had been expecting Logan in my room, not Scott.

"No, it's nothing. Just something that happened last month. I'm fine. I didn't mean to wake you."

"Does it have anything to do with the Blind Man Murderer?" Scott asked. I stared at him through the darkness and saw the concern etched on his face.

The Blind Man Murderer was a man in Canada who had been killing young women who resembled me. I had had vision of a few of the victims and while in Canada for my birth mother's funeral, I saw him. He had followed me into a bathroom of a diner and tried to choke me and cut my eyes out before killing me. But I had fought back long enough for Logan to rescue me. And then he killed him.

When I had come back home, Scott had seen the bruises on my neck. He wanted to know what happened. I told him I would tell him later and then he had been called to a mission. When he returned the next day, Jean was with him.

"No, it doesn't have anything to do with him," I said. "It's his daughter."

Scott turned to Jean and looked at her. He put his hand on her shoulder and leaned in. "Why don't you go back to bed? I'll deal with this and join you in a few minutes, okay?"

I felt her trepidation over leaving her husband alone at night in my bedroom. I also felt a twinge of jealousy and anger. But I tried to ignore it. Her anger towards me was just as justified as the anger I had for her.

"Okay," she said. "Goodnight Jayden."

"Goodnight Jean."

Before she left, she paused long enough to give Scott a kiss she made sure I saw. Then she turned and went down the hall, back to her room.

Scott watched her for a few seconds before he stepped into my room. He closed the door, walked towards me and sat in the chair beside my bed. "Do you mind if I turn your lamp on? My eyes are quite as good as yours in the dark."

I laughed. "No, go ahead."

He reached up under the shade and flicked on the light. The small lamp flooded the room with a dull, low light. He looked around my room for a moment, observing the changes. "I like how you moved everything," he said. "Does it feel better?"

"A little, yeah. I like that I can see out my window while I'm lying in bed now."

He nodded and looked to the wall that was empty save for the single photo of Logan and me. "Is that all you're going to put there?" he asked, pointing to it.

"No, I'm going to put other people up there, too. I just don't have any pictures of the rest of the family yet."

"Are you going to put me up there?" he asked with a smile.

I smiled back. "Maybe," I said. "I might put you beside Logan so he can keep an eye on you."

He laughed. "That might be a good idea," he said, looking at me. "Do you feel like talking about what you saw tonight? I know I'm not Logan, so I can't really crawl in bed

to try to comfort you, but I can listen, if you need me to."

I smiled slightly. "If you must know, Logan's stopped doing that. We're working on getting me used to being able to deal with my visions on my own."

"You've really made a lot of improvement since you've been here. I'm sure you can make that work, too," he said. "But since I'm already here, why don't we talk about what you saw?"

"Do you remember when I came back from Canada last month and I had all of those bruises?"

"Yeah."

"Do you remember when I promised to tell you how I got them?"

A sad smile crept across his mouth. "Jayden, I remember everything you said that day."

A small blush spread over my cheeks. I turned to him in my bed, crossing my legs into an Indian style. "I remember everything you said that day, too."

"I don't know that that's such a good thing, though. I think I may have said a few things that were…"

"Perfect," I said, cutting him off while he thought.

"You thought it was perfect?" he asked, sounding unsure.

My blush grew hotter, but I was determined to tell him how I felt and what I thought. "Do you know how long I had thought about you kissing me? How many time I wanted to just…_touch_ you?" I forced myself to look in his eyes, or the general direction of them at least, and did my best to keep from looking away. "That day, for those few minutes, I was happy. It doesn't matter what happens now, I'm never going to forget that."

"I'm sorry that you got hurt."

"I know. But I'm going to be okay."

"Good. I want you to be happy," he said. "And you don't have to worry about touching me, I'm right here whenever you need me."

I gave him another sad smile and choked back tears. "You're Jean's," I said and looked away from him. I closed my eyes tight. And then I felt his hands on mine. I opened my eyes once again to look at him.

"Jayden, I don't _belong_ to anyone. I'm with Jean, I love her, but my feelings for her don't change how I feel about you. You helped me through one of the worst times in my life and I'll never forget that. I can't explain to you what you mean to me and just because I'm with Jean doesn't mean that we can't still be close. That we can't still be friends."

"But things are different, whether you want them to be or not."

"You're right, things _are_ different. But it still doesn't change how I feel. And I need you to believe that."

"I do."

"Good," he said, taking my hand and kissing it. "Because I still need you."

"Yeah, I need you too."

He squeezed my hand. "Why don't you tell me about what happened while you were in Canada, okay?"

I straightened up some on my bed and cleared my throat. "After my mom's funeral, Logan and I stayed in town for a few days and then we headed south so we could start our way home. We had made it a few hours away from town when we stopped to get something to eat. There was this place that said it had really great pancakes, so we stopped there."

"Were they great?"

"Not as good as Hank's."

He smiled encouragingly. "Then what happened?"

"Before we left, I went to the bathroom. I was washing my hands when a man came in. I told him he had the wrong room, but when he spoke…I knew I had seen him before. I had been having visions of him. But by the time I realized who he was, he cornered me and had me pinned against the wall. He was so strong, I couldn't even move. There was nothing I could do."

"Did you scream for help?"

"Yeah, but nothing came out. He was a mutant. Every sound around him was…gone. It was completely silenced. I kept trying and trying, but nothing came out," I said. "And then he grabbed the ends of my scarf and started choking me. I tried doing everything I could think of; keep what breath I had left, keep my neck stiff, stay calm. But he moved, he switched positions, and I used what energy I had left and head butted him. It caught him off guard and he left go. Then I ran."

"And you told Logan what happened?"

"No. I ran, but I didn't get away fast enough. He grabbed my ankle and I fell. He sat on top of me and started choking me with his hands. He had me pinned with his body, was choking me with one hand, and then he pulled out a knife. He taunted me with it, like some sick freak, and ran the blade across my cheeks and around my eyes. I had broken out of the hold he had around my neck, so he put his hand over my nose and mouth. When I realized there was nothing else I could do, I bit his hand. He let go, I caught my break, and I knocked him off me."

"Then what happened?"

"I grabbed the knife, but he grabbed it at the same time as me. He tried stabbing me in the chest with it, but I kicked him away. I ran for the door, he grabbed my arm and I stabbed him in the shoulder. And then Logan came in. He made me leave and go to the car. When he came out, I knew he had killed him."

"You said something about his daughter. What about her?"

"When he touched me, I saw who he was and I saw what he had done. And I saw that it wasn't really _him_ killing all of those girls. His daughter was a mutant too and she got into his head. _She_ made him kill all the girls she there were me."

"Why?"

"You know when I got stuck by lightening in the summer? You pulled me out and saved me?"

"Yeah."

"I was having a vision when it happened and part of the energy from it got stuck in my brain. I was having a vision of her. I had seen her before, getting hit by a truck, and she thought it was my fault. So she wanted me dead and she had her father kill every girl around my age that looked like me. She thought I was in Canada, though."

"She told you that?" I nodded. "How did you find her?"

"She was in a hospital. She was paralyzed from the truck accident. When I touched her father, I saw where she was. And Logan took me to hr. When I told her I knew who she was and that her father was dead, she told me everything." I shook my head and looked down at his hands clasped around mine. "I recorded it. I got the whole confession on tape."

"What did you do with it?"

"Tony was a few hours away, working in another city. He was working on the Blind Man Murders, so I called him up, met him, and gave him the tape."

Tony De Luca was a criminal profiler for the FBI. I had known him when I was younger and lived with my parents in California. He was friends with our next door neighbor's

son and I was friends with their daughter. I hadn't seen him in nearly eleven years when I went back home to attend my friend Karen's wedding. Her husband was Tony's brother. We talked the whole night and exchanged numbers. When I started having visions of the victims, he was the first person I called. And when I was ready to hand over the girl's taped confession, I gave it to him.

"So he arrested her and you came back here."

I looked up at him and shook my head wordlessly. Except for Logan, Tony and Hank, I hadn't told anyone what I had done. And I hadn't spoken to any of them about it since it had happened. I wanted so desperately to forget it. But I couldn't.

"Jayden, tell me what happened, okay?" Scott said. He stroked the side of my hand with the pad of his thumb. "I'm listening."

I felt my breath become shaky and it was harder for me to hold back tears. One fell from my eye, rolling down my cheek. I wiped it away with my free hand and tried to calm my breathing.

"I killed her," I admitted. "I didn't see any other choice. She was a mutant, she could get into people's heads, she could make them do things, _anything_. If she would have lived and been arrested, she could have gotten into _anyone's_ head. And they would have to tell she was a mutant and I was _so_ scared what they would do to us. What kind of laws they would enforce."

"If she was in a hospital, how did no one see you?"

"It was a small hospital, just a few security cameras, no guards on duty. The woman at the front desk asked for ID but I told her I had left it in my dad's car and he had dropped me off. The girl's name was Megan Gershwin. The woman at the front desk didn't care that I had never been there before, I lied to her and she let me sign in and then go back. I wrote my real mother's name and went to the girl's room. After she told me everything and I had it recorded, I went to the medical supply closest. No one saw me. I grabbed a few things I recognized from my forensics classes and things I had heard Hank talk about. I knew if I could get something that was mixed with enough potassium, I could kill her without anyone knowing she was murdered."

I let out a sigh and looked at the clock by my bed. It was nearly two in the morning.

"She had a bad heart," I continued. "Something from the accident had screwed it up. When your heart fails, it automatically produces potassium. They would think she just had a heart attack or something. So I injected her with it and watched her die. When your heart stops and you're hooked up to a machine, you don't flat-line. Not immediately. There's too much electricity in the heart. So I had enough time to watch her die, then slip out before her EKG monitor started making noise and causing attention. Logan was talking to the woman at the front desk, distracting her. I walked across the street, called Tony, then walked half a block down and waited for Logan to pick me up."

"And that's what you saw tonight? Her dying."

I nodded, more tears falling. "I didn't know what else to do. But I see her all the time and that's no one's fault but my own. I killed her. _Me_. I don't know what to do, Scott."

He moved from the chair to the bed, sitting beside me. He pulled me to him and let me cry. "I can't tell you what you did was right or wrong, because I wasn't there and I can't say for sure what I wouldn't have done the exact same thing. But I know you Jayden, and I know you wouldn't just make a decision like that without thinking it all the way through," he said. "And you did kill her, but think about how many people you may have saved because of it. You're not a cold hearted murderer; I know that because I know _you_. You're a good person."

"Yeah, I'm just fantastic," I muttered sarcastically through my tears.

"Hey, you are. And I know what you're going through. The first time I killed someone on a mission, I had nightmares for months. I knew I did it because he was going after Storm, but I still couldn't get it out of my head. All I could remember was watching his blood pool at my feet. I couldn't believe how much blood there was. And I felt guilty. I took someone's life."

"To save Storm."

"Yeah, but I still couldn't quite get over it. It didn't matter who it was to save or what I was trying to do, I couldn't stop dreaming and thinking about it."

"What happened?"

"I finally went to Xavier and talked to him. He helped me work through it," he said. "Have you talked to him about it yet?"

I shook my head. "No."

He tilted my chin to look up at him. "You need to talk to somebody and he can help you."

"I know, but it's Xavier; I don't want to disappoint him."

"You're not going to disappoint him, Jayden. And if you don't want to talk to him, talk to Hank. You couldn't disappoint him if you tried; he thinks you hung the moon."

I laughed. "I don't know about that, but I did talk to him about it and…he made some sense of it."

"Good," he said, giving me a smile. "Did he say anything about your hair?"

"He said I looked like Twiggy, but prettier," I said. "So far I've heard her, Keira Knightley, Mia Farrow and Audrey Hepburn."

He smiled and I could tell that he was happy to have gotten me on a light subject. "I always thought you looked like Natalie Portman, personally."

I pulled away and looked at him. "Seriously?"

"Yeah, why? Do you not like her?"

"No, I think she's gorgeous. And now I'm thinking you're a bit insane."

He smiled again. "You think I'm insane for thinking you're gorgeous?"

"I thought you liked redheads," I said, side stepping his question.

"When you see everything through ruby colored glasses, _everyone's_ a redhead."

"Maybe you should go back to bed. I'm sure Jean's wondering where you are and I feel much better now."

He looked at me and I saw his brow knit together over his visor. "I went too far, didn't I?"

"No," I said. "It's just hard to hear someone say they think you're gorgeous when their wife is right down the hall."

"Just because I'm married doesn't mean that I'm blind."

"Well it's always nice to know even old married men find me attractive," I said with a small smile.

"So I'm old now, huh?"

"Oh yeah, older than dirt. You are thirty-six, after all," I teased.

"_Five_. I'm thirty-_five_," he corrected."

"Like I said; you're old," I said, giving him a wink.

With the tension behind us, he must have decided to end on a good note, because he stood from the bed, angling himself towards the door.

"Are you going to be okay tonight?" he asked.

"Yeah, I'll be fine."

"If you wake up again and need me, you _can _come get me, you know that right?"

I nodded. "I know."

"Good," he said. He leaned down and kissed my cheek. "Goodnight Jayden."

I looked up into his visor, his face hovering a few inches above mine. "Goodnight Scott." He gave me a smile and moved back, then he began walking to my door. I called out to him just before his hand touched the doorknob. He stopped and turned back to me. "Thank you," I said.

"For what?"

"Listening to me, talking to me. Not being awkward around me, despite everything."

"You don't have to thank me for that, sweetheart, it's my pleasure," he said. "Goodnight."

"Night," I said to him again.

I watched him leave and listened to his footsteps as he walked back to his own room. I heard the door open and shut quietly.

"I love you, Scott," I whispered to my empty room. I let out a sigh as I turned out my lamp before crawling back under my covers. "You have no idea how much I love you."


	4. In My Arms

Disclaimer: I don't own the right to Marvel, X-Men, or anything really.

Notes: This is a bit of a longer chapter, so I hope ya'll don't mind, but I just couldn't break it up. I hope ya'll are enjoying it so far, I would love to read some more feedback. Enjoy!

* * *

"Going for a morning stroll?" I heard a voice behind me ask. I turned around to see Hank.

"Yeah, I thought I would take a walk and clear my head."

I had woken up early that morning, found out that Logan and the team was home and discovered that Marie was in bed with Logan. I didn't hate her anymore, we were actually friends now, but it was still slightly confusing. So I got dressed, bundled myself up, and went outside for a walk in the garden. True, everything was dead and covered in snow, but it was calming, relaxing. I had made so many changes, as had the people around me, and in order to keep myself from going back to my old habits, I needed to assert myself in something familiar. I needed to know that some things were still the same, and that that was a good thing.

So I went out to the garden. That's where I went every time I needed to clear my head. It's where I felt comfortable. I didn't know why, but it put me at ease. Even in the cold of winter.

"Do you mind if I join you?" Hank asked.

"No," I said, shaking my head, watching my breath turn to fog as it left my mouth. "I don't mind."

He walked to my side and joined me as I continued to walk through the frozen garden. Hank's big feet, which were covered in his black boots I deemed his snow skis, made a loud crunching sound as it crunched the snow with every step he took. We walked together for a few minutes before either of us spoke. And even then, it was Hank who spoke first.

"May I ask what it is you're out here trying to clear your mind of?" he asked.

"I just have a lot on my mind."

"Such as?"

"Such as the fact that you've shown enough people the pictures I took while in Florida that Jean asked me to take the photos at her and Scott's ceremony tomorrow."

"Oh dear, I'm terribly sorry. What did you say?"

"I told her I would think about it," I said. I let out a sigh. "And then Scott asked me and I said yes."

"Really?" he asked, giving me a sideways glance.

"What can I say; I have a weakness for men who don't reciprocate my feelings."

He laughed. "Well, whatever the reason, I'm sure you'll do an amazing job."

"I hope so; they're paying me for it. Although I did warn Scott that they may turn out pretty badly."

"Is that all you're thinking about?"

"Not quite."

"What else is on your mind?"

"I'm just confused by a lot of things."

"Like what?"

"Life in general."

I saw him smile from the corner of my eye. "Life can be quite confusing, I agree. But is there anything specific you're confused about?"

"My relationships."

"Who with?"

"Scott, Logan, Rogue." I let out a sigh. "It's like everything's muddled."

"How?"

"I don't know how I'm supposed to handle Scott and Jean being together. It's just weird," I said as we walked through the grounds where Jean's memorial had once stood. It had been taken down the month before and it still looked odd with the large stone missing, even though the hole had been filled in and the spot where it had been was covered with snow. "And even though I don't _hate_ Rogue…I still don't know exactly how I feel about her and Logan being together. It's just complicated."

"How so?"

"I know they're in love with each other, and I'm all for that, but…I don't know, maybe I'm just not ready to share him yet, or something."

"As far as I can see, Logan's devoted to you completely as a father. I've never seen a man give so much of himself to his own daughter," he said. "Have he and Rogue moved their relationship to anything beyond friendship and given you a reason to worry about sharing him?"

We were walking around the back of the mansion and soon I could see the door that led into the kitchen.

"When I woke up this morning, I saw Storm and found out that he was back. So I was going to wake him up and spend some time with him, then let him go back to sleep for the day. I just like to see him for a bit, you know? But when I went in today, Rogue was in bed with him."

"She did used to spend some nights with him before he met you," he said. "They share quite a few of the same nightmares. I'm sure that you understand how comforting it can be to have someone to share even your worst of nightmares with, yes?"

"Yeah," I said, stopping in front of the dead rose bushes. "I understand that they were friends before Logan even knew me. I get that they want to be together and I want him to be happy. He's given up and done so much for me, he _deserves_ to be happy. And in theory, I'm kind of actually okay with him and Rogue together."

"In theory. But what about reality?"

"In reality…it's odd to see her in his bed," I said. "I mean, I know they weren't _doing_ anything. It's just seeing them together like that."

"It will become easier over time, I assure you," he said, giving me a kind smile. He put his large hands on either of my shoulders and looked down at me. "You, my dear, are going to be perfectly fine. You are wonderful, and beautiful, and intelligent. You're incredibly talented and you care for people, despite how hard you tried not to in the beginning. You have grown so much as a person over this past year and I've never seen anyone who tries as hard as you do. _You_ will be fine. But you need to stop worrying yourself over things in which you have no control. You will drive yourself mad."

"What? I'm not _already_ mad?"

He smiled at me once again. "Not quite, no, but you're doing a very good job of getting yourself there pretty quickly."

"I know I'm going to be okay, and I know it's pointless to worry over things I can't change. I _know_ that, it's just a little harder to push myself to believe it too, you know?"

He nodded. "I do know, yes."

"Good. At least I'm not completely alone."

He laughed. "You are never alone, sweetheart," he said. "Now what would you say to getting some breakfast? I'll cook whatever you want."

"How about crepes with cream cheese and ice cream?"

"You have excellent taste, my dear," he said, dotting my nose with one of his fingers.

I smiled and he offered me his arm. I accepted it and rested my head against his massive arm as he led me towards the kitchen.

I enjoyed being away from home sometimes, it was nice to go and be with just Logan. But coming home was nice, too. I had never had a family quite like the one at school. My family at home consisted of my parents and me. Both set of my grandparents lived over an hour away. They only visited around the holidays, and even then, they only stayed for a few days.

But at the school, my family was huge and more than just a little eccentric. And I loved them more than I ever could have imagined. There was something about being part of a group of people that genuinely cared about me, that accepted all of my idiosyncrasies without judging me, that made living in a house with two hundred people not only tolerable, but desirable.

I had a choice of going back to California. I was only meant to stay at the school for a few months and then return. I could have kept my relationship with Logan, gone to college on the west coast, and had my parents care for everything for me. But I decided to stay. I chose to give up the luxuries of my old life so that I could be with people who I truly felt comfortable with. And it wasn't as if I simply told my parents I was staying and they accepted that. I had to fight in order to prove to them that I _wanted_ to live at the school, that it _was_ my home.

Out of my entire life I had never once imagined myself living in New York, let alone in a mansion full of mutants, all of which I considered my family. I wanted to travel and see for myself the places I saw in my visions, but I always assumed I would stay at home, live near my parents, and be a good little girl. But when I started seeing Logan, the only thing that seemed reasonable was to find him, to know him. After that, being a good girl and following orders just didn't come as easily to me. I had broken out of the little bubble they had worked so hard to keep me in and I wasn't going back. I was ready for something new.

And the school was exactly what I had been searching for.

After entering the school through the door off the back of the kitchen, Hank and I stripped off our wet, snow covered layers and our boots. It took nearly five minutes and when I got my thermal shirt I had pulled on over the T-shirt I had been sleeping in got stuck as I was pulling it over my head, Hank had to help me pull it off. Finally, after much effort on my part, we began cooking breakfast.

I'll admit something right now; I'm not a great cook. As a matter of a fact, I'm not even a _good_ cook. But Hank McCoy had the most patients of any man I had ever met and he had shown me how to scrabble a decent pan of eggs, how to cook bacon so that it was crispy but not burnt, and how to make a crepe that didn't taste like sticky dough. It just went to prove that if you have a great enough teacher, anyone can learn pretty much anything. Even how to roll a crepe filled with cream cheese without making it look like a demented taco. Which was what Hank had me do.

Once they were in the oven, he offered me his hand. Hank and I danced in the kitchen quite a bit. He had shown me a few proper dances, and I wasn't terrible at them, but my favorite was always slow dancing with him on the kitchen floor while he hummed softly.

"I didn't get a chance to ask how you and Logan enjoyed your trip. Did you have fun?" he asked, breaking from his humming of 'As Time Goes By', which was our song.

"Yeah, we had a good time," I said, my head resting against his chest as I followed his lead.

"Do you believe it helped any?"

"I think so," I said. "I _hope_ so."

"Good. But I'm glad that you're back. I missed you very much while you were gone."

"I missed you, too. I actually had to eat Pop Tarts."

He laughed and I felt it roll through him. "I see," he said. "No more Pop Tarts while I'm here."

"No, I did really miss you and I'm glad to be back home."

"Good," he said, giving me a kiss on my cheek. "We're glad to have you back home, too."

"Hank?"

"Yes?"

"What are you doing Monday?"

"Teaching, I suppose."

"What about Monday night?"

"I'm not sure. What is Monday?"

"Valentine's Day."

"So it is, isn't it? I completely forgot," he said. "I don't believe I'm doing anything. Not that I can recall anyway. But then again, I didn't realize that Monday was Valentine's Day."

"Well, I was wondering if perhaps you might like to be my date. I can't cook, but I can order take out and we can watch some Cary Grant movies, or something."

He smiled. "I would be delighted and honored to be your date, Miss Rivers," he said. "And I would be more than happy to cook for us both. If you bring the movie, I'll bring the food. How does that sound?"

"That sounds fantastic to me, Mr. McCoy."

"Am I interrupting?" I craned my neck over my shoulder to see Jean as she entered the kitchen.

"Absolutely not. Jayden and I are just dancing."

"I can see. Is there a special reason behind it?"

"Crepes," Hank said, dipping me.

"Crepes?" she asked, sounding confused.

"Yes, stuffed crepes. They're one of Jayden's favorites," he said. "And I do believe that her return is worth celebrating as well."

"This is another thing I missed while I was gone," I said as Hank spun me around.

"Logan wouldn't dance with you while you were there?"

"Only once. We were on the beach and it was raining."

"You got _Logan_ to dance?" Jean asked skeptically from where she stood in front of the refrigerator.

"Yeah. He's not so bad," I said, accidentally stepping on one of Hank's toes. "Not that I'm exactly Ginger Rodgers myself."

"Well, I'm not Fred Astaire, either," Hank said with a smile.

"Yeah, I think he may have been a bit shorter."

He laughed. "Yes, other than that, our resemblances are quite uncanny." He gave me a few more twirls before bowing to me, ending our dance. He then pulled out a chair for me to sit in and gave my hand a kiss. "Merci de la danse, mon amour."

"Pulling out the French, eh McCoy? I guess it is appropriate given that we are cooking crepes and they are French after all."

"Absolutely," he said, going to the oven to check on our breakfast.

"So you've really gotten Logan to dance with you before?" Jean asked, pulling a carton of milk from the refrigerator.

"A few times, yeah. Why?"

"He just never seemed like the dancing kind."

"That's because he's not," Hank said, removing the crepes from the oven. "But I do believe that Jayden could persuade him of anything, if she so wished."

"So I guess it's safe to say you have him wrapped around your finger, huh?" she said to me with a smile.

"Not quite. Logan does whatever he wants. Occasionally I might be able to talk him into doing something. He just has to be in an unusually good mood."

"Like when he's with Rogue?"

She was testing the waters, I could tell. Scott had told her about my initial dislike for Marie and she was asking about her to see how I would react to the question. She wanted to know if I would lie or open up to her.

"Yeah, he's usually in a good mood around her."

"How do you feel about that? Do you mind their relationship with each other?"

"No. She's known him longer than me. I have no problem with them together."

"Does it not bother you that he's dating someone so young?"

"She's older than me."

"Yes, but he's a lot older than her."

"That's because he's old," I said, smiling slightly. "I mean, even if he dated someone, say, as old as you, there would still be a pretty big age difference."

Hank handed me my plate with my stuffed crepes and gave me a look that said 'behave'. I just flashed him my most innocent smile and he shook his head at me.

Jean laughed. "I'm not that old," she said, her tone condescending.

"You're like, forty, aren't you?"

"No, I'm thirty-six," she said as Scott walked into the kitchen.

"Unlike Scott, who's thirty-_five_," I said, giving him a smile.

"Yeah, keep teasing me about that," he said. "One day you'll be my age."

"True. But when I am, you'll be fifty-one, and I'll still make fun of you."

"I don't doubt that one bit," he said, giving Jean a kiss on the cheek. "So you finally swindled Hank into making you breakfast, huh?"

"I don't know what you're talking about; Hank offered to make it. I didn't 'swindle' anyone."

"I'm sure."

"They were dancing when I came in," Jean said.

"Yeah, they do that," he said. "Does anyone want any orange juice?"

"I do, if you don't mind," I said.

He took a glass from one of the cabinets and was pouring juice into it when Logan and Marie came walking into the kitchen.

"Mornin' darlin'," Logan said, kissing the top of my head. "You been up long?"

"About an hour and a half."

"Did you sleep good last night?"

"Yeah."

"She had a nightmare," Jean said.

Logan arched his eyebrow at me and gave me a stern look. "A nightmare or a vision?"

"A nightmare."

"How bad was it?"

"Not bad at all."

"She woke up screaming," Jean said.

"What'd you see?"

"Nothing, it wasn't a big deal."

"You sure?"

"Yeah. It's the same one I've been having. Like I said; it wasn't a big deal."

"I want you to talk to the Professor about it. And don't even think about arguin' with me over it."

"Okay."

"Okay?" he asked, sounding confused.

"Yeah, okay. I'll talk to him about it."

"We talked about it before and you said no."

I shrugged. "I changed my mind. I am allowed to do that, aren't I?"

"Yeah, you are. I just wanna know _why_ you changed it."

"After she woke up, she and I talked for a little while," Scott said. "I explained that Xavier helped me when I was going through the same thing."

"You were in her room last night."

"Yeah. I didn't know you were leaving her by herself. We talked for a few minutes and then I left."

Logan looked at me. "What? I can't help it that people are concerned when I wake up screaming," I said, accepting the glass of orange juice Scott had poured for me.

"Concerned?" he said skeptically, his eyebrow high on his forehead.

"Yes, concern. It's emotion that humans sometimes feel. Have _you_ ever felt it?"

He kept staring at me, giving me a look. "Yeah, I have," he said. "And you better watch it kid."

"Or what?"

"Or I won't do a trainin' session in the Danger Room with you today. And you need me 'cause you don't know how to run the programs on your own."

"You are such a jackass."

He gave me a smirk and winked at me. "But you still love me."

"Was that ever in question? All I said was that you were a jackass, which you are."

"Keep sayin' it darlin', see if I feel like trainin' with you later tonight," he said. He looked to Scott. "And from now on, stay outta her room."

"I was in there because _you_ weren't here. I didn't realize she was trying to get used to them on her own. I told you that," Scott defended.

"I wasn't here 'cause I was on a mission. Don't act like I was just ignorin' her."

"I wasn't. All I said was that you weren't here. I was _checking_ on here."

"You said you were in there for a few minutes before, that sounds like more than just checkin' on here."

"Yeah, I was in there for a little while. We talked about her nightmare and then I went back to my room," he said. "With my _wife_."

"Good for you Scooter," he said. "But don't do it again."

"Well, would anyone like some breakfast?" Hank asked cheerfully, acting completely oblivious to the conversation going on around him.

I smiled at him and tried to let Scott and Logan's exchange leave my mind. But it wouldn't. Maybe it was the way Scott had said 'my wife'. Like it would be terrible to even assume that his actions toward another woman could be misconstrued in such a horrible way. Like Logan didn't know that I was head over heels in love with him, that we had kissed and that Scott had said he saw himself moving on over Jean's death with me. He acted like he hadn't said that I made him happier than he had been in years.

Or maybe it was the way that Jean was staring at me. Like she knew everything Scott had said and felt. Like she knew just what happened between Scott and me the night before. She was looking at me like I was competition.

And I didn't know whether to felt guilty or flattered.

* * *

There was a loud crash above my head as I moved quickly and quietly through an underground corridor. It was completely made of concrete. Floor, walls, ceiling, everything. The only light came from dull yellow bulbs placed every ten or so feet and in the tight quarters, it made me feel a bit claustrophobic.

"Bobby to Jayden, where are you?" Bobby's voice said in my ear.

I stopped in the corridor long enough to check the green lights on the GPS on my wrist. There were three blinking lights, representing Bobby, Rogue and Logan. We were in the Danger Room, running through a session. I had never trained with Bobby so Logan teamed us up together. I had fallen down a hole in the ground and was trying to find my way out when Bobby called in.

"Dude, I have no idea," I said, pressing the button on my com-link. "I think I'm under you."

I heard him laugh, obviously amused by my innuendo. Then the radio clicked over and I heard Logan growl. "Stop laughin' Popsicle," his gruff voice came through. "Find her and meet us. We've been waitin' for five minutes. You keep us any longer and we'll have to move."

"Yes sir," Bobby replied and I couldn't tell if he was saying it seriously or sarcastically.

"Now where are you, darlin'?"

"Uh…" I said, looking around. "Underground. I'm in some sort of concrete corridor."

"How'd you get there?"

"Bobby and I were clearing a room. I went out back to make sure we had everything when I slipped and fell down a hole. I couldn't climb back up, so I thought I'd just keep walking and see where it took me."

A pause, then; "You never thought to radio for help?"

"Well…no."

I heard him let out a sigh. "All right, keep walkin'. I got you on my GPS. I think you should run into the Popsicle soon."

"Stop calling me that," Bobby said.

"Yeah, make me."

I rolled my eyes. "Okay, I'm going on. I'll call in if I can't get out from here."

I closed my eyes, took a couple of deep breaths and reminded myself that the space wasn't getting smaller; it was just a trick on my eyes from the lighting. I told myself that I was perfectly fine, but I had to get out soon.

So I kept walking.

I walked about a hundred yards before I saw a large metal door. I placed my ear up to it, hopelessly straining to hear something. But the door was too thick and even I, with a heightened sense of hearing, couldn't hear a sound.

That meant I had to go in without knowing what was on the other side. I was going in blind and without backup. Something I had never done before. If anything, _I_ was always backup. For Logan or Scott. But this was new and I was a little scared.

'_You can do this Jayden, just go on through. You said you wanted to be stronger, here's your chance to prove you are,_' I thought. I took another deep breath. '_One. Two. Three_.'

I pushed open the door, ready to take on anyone that might be in there. I was in full attack mode, so when I moved into the room and saw it was empty, I felt my adrenaline start to fade.

I looked around the room, finding it quite small and untidy. There was a desk that's top was covered in papers. A coffee cup sat nearly empty on the right hand side, while on the left, there was an empty thermos. The back wall had a small wooden table with three mismatched chairs around it. There was a deck of playing cards spread out as if the occupants had been in the middle of a card game when they left. And from the look of the cards, they were playing Rummy and none too well.

It took me a moment to spot the door at the end of the room. Even though it wasn't a large room, it was dark, making the corners harder to see. Add to that the fact that the door was painted the same pea green color as the walls and had it not been for the dull brass doorknob, it would have blended in almost completely.

I moved to it, again pressing my ear to the outside, listening for any signs of anyone or anything. But unlike the door before, this one was made of wood and I _could_ hear through it. And aside from the sound of a heater kicking on, there was nothing that sounded suspicious. But I went in with the same amount of awareness as the room I had just entered. Because one thing Logan had always taught me was to always be prepared for anything.

The new room wasn't empty, though. Although I hadn't heard anything, there was definitely something there.

A lot of somethings.

Cockroaches covered the floor and walls. The ceiling was too high and too dark to tell if they covered it as well, but I didn't need to; what I could see was enough.

I looked at the GPS on my wrist. Bobby was right outside the building. I only had to cross the large room full of cockroaches, go out the door, and there he would be. I just didn't know if I could get across the room.

"Uh, Bobby?" I said, talking into my com-link.

"Yeah?" he called back.

"Do me a huge favor."

"Okay. What?"

"Come inside the building that you're standing in front of."

"Are you in there?"

"Yeah."

"Are you stuck?"

"No."

Pause. "Why do you need me to come in? I need you out here?"

I was quickly starting to panic. I hated pretty much all bugs, but cockroaches were the worst. I had always hated them. They were gross and creepy. I could feel them crawling all over my feet and starting up my legs. But I fought to keep panic down and maintain my composer.

"Bobby," I said, closing my eyes against the thousands of roaches. "I need you to come inside. _Please_."

"What's wrong?" Logan asked, his voice sounding concerned.

"Roaches," I said.

"Excuse me."

"Roaches. Everywhere."

"And what am _I_ supposed to do about it?" Bobby asked as I heard him approaching the door across the room.

"I don't know," I said.

"Besides, _how_ bad can it be? They're just bugs." He opened the door and I heard his breath catch as he saw the room. "Holy crap."

"Yeah. That's how bad it can be," I said, shaking the bugs from my feet.

"Okay…just come to me. Can you do that?"

"No. You come to me."

"Why? Once I get over there you would just need to come this way, so why do you need me over there?"

I looked at him, still fighting to shake as many of them from my legs and feet as I could. "So you can carry me?" I said sheepishly.

"What? No, I'm not carrying you."

"Okay. Then…freeze them, or something."

"Yeah. Freeze the floor and I'll slide over to you."

"What's goin' on? Logan asked.

Bobby let out a sigh. "I'm freezing the floor so she can get through the room without the roaches bothering her."

"All right, but hurry."

I watched Bobby aim his hand at the floor. Automatically it began to freeze. The ice grew, reaching from wall to wall, capturing every bug in its path. Finally, just as it was nearly my feet, it stopped just short of actually touching them.

"Can you slide over to me now?" Bobby asked.

"Let's see," I said, taking a few steps back and then ran onto the ice. I slid towards him quite quickly and found myself wondering how I was going to stop. But as I neared him, he reached out his arm and pulled me off the ice. I smiled at him. "Thanks."

"Don't mention it. Let's just get out of here."

We left the room, exiting the building, and both of us took a moment to brush off any extra 'passengers' before continuing on our mission.

We had to make our way through a town made up of closely placed buildings. They were all the same brown, nondescript walls on the outside. It was dark, but there were a few street lamps every so many feet to allow us to see where we were going. We were quiet as we walked through the streets even though the part of the town we were in was supposed to be disserted. We moved carefully until we reached the main street which was lined with old, dusty cars and then we stopped.

"Where are they?" he asked, looking around.

"He said if we didn't hurry they would have to move. Maybe they just went somewhere else?"

"But there's no one here; why would they have to move."

"Beats me."

"If you would look further than five feet in front of you, you might find us," Logan's voice drawled in my ear.

I looked around me until I saw a faint, orange light burning in the shadows to my left. I smiled and wondered how I could have missed the smell of his cigar. I tapped Bobby on the shoulder and nodded in their direction.

"About time," Logan said. "We were gonna move."

"Why?" Bobby asked.

Logan gave him a look. "To make it harder on you," he said sarcastically, blowing smoke out.

"So what do we do now?" I asked.

"We gotta go to the main building in the center of town," Rogue answered.

"What's there?"

"Weren't you payin' attention when we started?" Logan asked.

"Not really, no. You sort of started it before I got a chance to figure it out," I admitted.

He drew in his cigar and looked over at Marie. "We have to get a kid out of the main buildin'," she said.

"A kid like a goat?" Bobby asked.

The three of us looked over at him. "Yeah, we're puttin' our necks on the line to save a freakin' goat," Logan said, shaking his head.

"There's a teenage _mutant_ boy that's lost here. We gotta find him and bring him back to our startin' point," Rogue finished explaining.

"Okay, let's go then," I said.

The four of us moved, Logan in front, Marie behind him, me behind her and Bobby bringing up the back. We kept moving until we reached the part of the town that wasn't disserted. Once there, we had to stay to the back alleys to keep from being seen. We kept close together but Logan broke off once to take down a couple of men. It took about twenty minutes from that point to make it to the cent of the town. My GPS was blinking that our target wasn't far away. Logan and Marie were going to go inside to get the boy, but she suggested he take me instead and leave her and Bobby outside to keep guard.

"You up to it, kid?" he asked.

"Yeah," I said, nodding.

"All right. Follow me and keep your eyes open."

I did as he said and followed him into the first room. It was dark, cold, and, from what I could tell, empty. We had covered nearly fifty feet when I realized my assumption of the room being empty was wrong.

Something came out from a corner, hidden in the shadows, and made a strike at Logan. I heard him pop his claws and heard as the made contact with whatever it was he was fighting. I stood back, trying to stay out of Logan's way while he fought, but close enough that I could help if he needed backup.

Then I felt something behind me. I immediately threw up my elbow, hitting whoever it was in the face. I kicked, and spun, and punched. Then I grabbed his arm, pulled it behind his back, and hit the back of his head with the palm of my hand, hitting a nerve and knocking him out.

"You good?" Logan asked.

"Yeah. You?"

"Yeah, come on."

He grabbed my hand momentarily to make sure I could follow behind him. After the fight I had lost my sense of direction and he obviously understood that. Once he knew I had grasped which way we were heading, he let go of my hand and I stayed behind him.

After clearing the first room, we kept making our way back through the building. The further we walked, the lighter it became, and the room started shrinking. The widths were getting smaller, but the ceiling was coming down, too. I thought I felt claustrophobic before when I had been lost in the underground corridor, but I really was beginning to feel it as we kept going further into the building.

"Is it hot in here to you?" I asked, feeling my head begin to sweat.

"Yeah, it's the lights. Since they're brighter and the rooms are smaller, the heat's stayin' in."

Our suits were designed with a special type of material that kept you cool when it was hot and warm when it was cold. But because my head wasn't covered by the uniform, it didn't reap any of its benefits.

"What's the point of this training session, by the way?"

"I don't know. I just run 'em."

"Seriously? You don't know how to pick which ones you want?"

"Yeah, I can pick whatever I want, but I don't create 'em so I don't know they suck until we run it."

"So far every four person session I've been in has sucked."

"Yeah, all two of 'em," he said sarcastically.

I smiled at him. "Shut up."

"Get behind me and get ready. The kid should be in this room."

We cleared the next room, got the kid, made it out, met up with Bobby and Rogue and went back to our starting point. The session ended and we split up to go our own respective shower rooms.

"So, you decided to take Scott and Jean's pictures tomorrow, huh?" Rogue asked from her shower stall.

"Yeah."

"I knew you would."

"I only said yes because Scott asked me," I said, peeling off my uniform before stepping into my own stall.

"Oh, well _that_ makes it better," she said with a laugh.

"If one of Logan's wives that you thought was dead came back and he wanted you to take pictures of his recommitment ceremony, what would you do?"

There was a pause and I could hear her lathering her hair with shampoo. It smelled like gingerbread and suddenly made me crave something sweet. "I don't know what I would do," she said honestly. "But you and me ain't the same person."

"Yeah, I'm a bigger sucker."

"No, you just forgive people easier."

"Not quite. I can hold a grudge with the best of them."

"You can, but you don't. Not always. Think about how you forgave Logan. Not many girls would forgive their father for leavin' them when they were that young. He left you right after you were born in a bathroom stall of a bar, right?"

"Yeah," I said, squeezing shampoo on my head, lathering it up in my hair and using the excess as soap on the rest of my body.

"So Logan left you, but look at the two of you; you're inspirable."

"Logan made it up to me, he apologized, he explained himself. He's completely different."

"So what did Scott do to make you forgive him?"

I rinsed the shampoo from my hair and body as I thought. I shut the water off and grabbed a towel from outside of my stall and ran it over my face and hair before wrapping it around my body.

"He made me fall in love with him," I said. "And being the clumsy idiot I am, I fell pretty hard."

"I know the feelin'."

"Sucks, doesn't it?"

"Well, at least you got to kiss him, right? If I even tried that, someone would end up in the infirmary. And there's nothing more unromantic than bein' in a coma."

I laughed. "I can imagine. Although the first time Scott and I technically kissed, I was pretty much unconscious."

"Sorry hon, but that ain't kissin'," she said, turning off her water. "That's called CPR. It's what you do when someone, like you, stops breathin'."

"I was actually talking about another time, but thanks for reminding me of that as well. I had almost forgotten about it."

I dried off quickly and slathered on some muscle relaxing lotion over my arms, neck and back before pulling on some clean clothes. I had a pair of shorts and a school hoodie stowed away in my locker along with a wife beater.

"Wait, there was another time?" she asked, grabbing her towel hanging outside her stall.

"Yeah. You know when I had that problem with the energy being caught in the back of my brain?"

"Who could forget that?" She laughed as she exited her stall.

"Well, you know I would go completely blank when the girl the energy belonged to took over, right?"

"Yeah. It was the same girl who was behind the Blind Man Murders, wasn't it?"

I nodded. "But when she would take over, no matter how short it was, I couldn't remember what she made me do," I said. "I still don't."

"Like when she made you cut your hair?"

"Exactly. But one night, before the hair cutting thing, she made me go to Scott's room. I don't know what was said or what, exactly, happened. All I know is that somehow the two of us ended up kissing." I shook my head and stuffed my hands into the pockets of my hoodie. "I didn't even know it happened until Scott let it slip."

"What did he say?"

"He said he shouldn't have done it." I heard Logan in the hall. He was talking with Hank and Jean. "Maybe he was right, maybe he shouldn't have. Neither of us was in a good place. He was still grieving and I…well, I was a complete mess. Still am, actually."

She smiled. "You're pullin' yourself together pretty good on the outside to be such a mess."

"Didn't I tell you? My mother did a fantastic job of teaching me how to look pulled together. It's all about the reputation."

"I have a feelin' our mommas would get along pretty well."

I laughed. "Maybe we should take them out to lunch sometime. My mother freaked out when she found out Logan was my father. I would love to see the reaction from someone finding out that their daughter's dating him."

"Oh, that would _really_ go over well."

I smiled. "I'm going to find something to eat. I'll see you later."

"All right."

I left the shower room and walked out into the hall, right into Logan, Jean and Hank.

"Good afternoon, Jayden," Hank said, smiling. "How are you?"

"A little sore, but otherwise pretty peachy."

"I didn't realize you were training in the Danger Room so hard. You moved up pretty quickly, didn't you?" Jean asked.

When Jean had come back, I started having a nervous breakdown, shutting myself away in my room the week before the Professor sent me away to Florida. I hadn't seen much of her. I went to school the few days before I was suspended, and Logan would bring my food up to my room. So Jean didn't know me. And in the two days I had been back home, I had spoken more to her than the whole week before I had left. And so there was a _lot_ of things she didn't know about me.

"Logan started training her not long after she arrived here. She picked it up brilliantly. She's very much like her father that way," Hank said, giving me a wink.

"That doesn't seem to be the only thing. I didn't know how much you resembled one another," she said, smiling at me, the Logan. "Like father like daughter, huh?"

"That may not be such a good thing," Logan said as I started walking away. "Where are you goin'?"

"Bobby said something about grabbing a pizza earlier, I thought I might take him up on it," I said. "And I thought I might go on a job hunt while I was out."

"Job hunt?" he asked, raising his eyebrow.

"Yeah, since I'm not going to school, I thought I should probably do something useful with my time."

"You've dropped out of school?" Hank asked. I nodded. "May I ask why?"

"Hank, you were the one who examined me after both fights. You know I wasn't safe there."

"Then you can switch colleges. Finish this term and in the fall you can go somewhere else."

I shook my head. "I can't. I thought I could do forensics, but my last week back we had to view pictures of a double homicide."

"You've seen corpses before. You viewed a live autopsy just last year. Not to mention the many victims you've seen in your visions. What was so different about these?"

"It was a mother and a daughter. The girl was _four_." I let out a sigh. "I can't deal with that."

"But I thought you wanted to be part of the X-Men?"

"I do. But the team tries to _save_ people. As a forensics scientist, the only time I would come in contact with people like that girl and her mother would be to process them as victims. I would rather help them while they're alive."

"I thought you had your heart set on forensics since you were young? What are you going to study now?"

"I thought about taking a year off."

"Then what?"

"I don't know. Maybe criminal profiling."

He smiled. "Ah, like Agent De Luca, yes?"

I smiled back. "Yeah, like him."

Logan let out a small growl and Jean looked confused. "Who's Agent De Luca?"

"An FBI agent," Hank answered. "And Jayden's Italian admirer."

"How do you know him? Did he investigate the fights you were in at school?"

"Those were hardly federal offenses," I said. "I knew him from when I was younger."

"I thought you lived in California?"

"I did. I went back last year and saw him again. He was working on the Blind Man Murders."

"Scott told me about those. How were you connected?" she asked as Marie came out of the shower room.

"It was…complicated."

"What's complicated?" Rogue asked.

"The Blind Man Murders," I said.

"That's a depressing topic."

"We were talking about Tony. I mentioned he was working them. Jean asked how I was involved."

"Oh, Tony," she said, smiling. "Nice guy."

"You've met him?" Jean asked.

"Yeah…kind of." She looked up at Logan. "_Someone_ took me out to dinner and we just _happened_ to end up at the same restaurant as him and Jayden."

"In California?"

"No, he came here," I said.

"Just for a date?"

"No. He came out to talk about some evidence I had helped him with involving one of the victims."

"Have you spoken to him lately?" Marie asked.

"Not since last month when I saw him when we were in Canada."

"You should call him. You can't beat a guy who's nice, smart, gorgeous _and_ into you."

"She's not callin' anyone," Logan said.

"Right. I'm going to get some lunch with Bobby." I turned to Rogue. "Do you want to come?"

"No, I'm gonna stay here. Thanks, though."

"Okay, I'll see all of you later. Bye."

I started walking away, towards the elevator and when I was nearly there, I felt someone behind me. I didn't have to look to know it was Jean. I pressed the button on the elevator, the door slid open and I walked in. She followed.

"I'm sorry I told Logan about your nightmare from last night. I didn't know you didn't want him to know about it," she said as I pressed for the second floor.

"I wasn't trying to keep it from him," I said. "But it was just a nightmare. I've had them before, I'll have them again."

"I've heard you've had some pretty violent ones."

"No. My visions are the only ones I've ever gotten violent while having."

"Do you have those often?"

"Visions or violent ones?"

"Both."

"Visions, every day. I've slowed them down, but I can't stop them. As for the violent ones…those only happen with Logan's."

"You've seen him?"

"Yeah."

"When?"

"I see him a lot. I don't like them and I really don't like talking about them," I said as the elevator stopped on the second floor. I exited out on the student's hall and started walking towards the teacher's wing.

"Scoot. I've seen some of the things those people did to him, too. I know it's not easy to talk about."

"I don't talk about it because it's none of my business."

"He's your father."

"That doesn't mean his private life is open for me to discuss, especially with anyone other than him. I'm his daughter but that doesn't mean he can talk about me to someone else."

"But he already does."

"Who with?"

"Rogue."

I rolled my eyes, thought she was too far behind me to see. "Rogue doesn't count. They talk to each other about almost everything. That plus whenever they touch, she takes his memories. She automatically knows what we've discussed." I didn't bother mentioning that Marie had learned to 'box' away memories and keep them from taking over her mind in the years that Jean had been gone.

"So it doesn't bother you that they talk about things you don't want them to?"

"Asking Logan and Rogue not to confined in each other is like asking me and Scott not to talk to each other; it doesn't work," I said, stopping outside my door.

"So you and Scott talked to each other a lot?"

"Yeah. We were both going through a really hard time. We helped each other out."

She stepped up, looking down at me. "I know about your crush on him." There was no emotion in her voice, she just said it straight. She made no indications to make me think she thought it was wrong, or okay. There was _nothing_ in her voice to give it away. But I didn't have to hear it. I could _feel_ it.

"Good. I'm glad you know. Scott's a great man, he's a good friend and I feel very lucky to know him."

"Well, I want to apologize if my coming back home has made you feel awkward."

"You don't have to apologize for coming back from the dead."

"I know that you had a rough time when I came back."

She was baiting me. So I bit.

"Yeah, I did. But I had just lost my birth mother, was caught up in a rather _horrible_ situation with a murderer and I was also a little confused by the situations here at home and Scott's emotions and intentions," I said. "It wasn't because of you."

Now she was intrigued. I assumed she had probably tried probing Scott's brain to know what he had done while she was gone, but he knew how to build walls in his mind to block psychics from certain things. And somehow I knew that's what he had done. I also knew that that was why she looked so curious and confused.

"What do you mean his emotions and intentions?"

I held back a smirk. "I mean that I was confused by his emotions and intentions towards me when you came back," I said plainly and perhaps a little condescendingly.

"Why? You were friends, I shouldn't change that. Scott's still friends with you, isn't he?"

"Yeah, he is."

"So why were you confused?"

I opened my bedroom door and took a step back. I was tired of being weak, always the victim. But I was also tired of people patronizing me. Just because I was young didn't mean I was stupid. And if she was trying to probe my mind, she was going to have a bit of a hard time, because the Professor had showed my how to put up blocks to protect myself. Which is exactly what I was doing.

"Before you came back, our friendship became a little bit more…personal, I guess you could say. It just took me a little while to figure out where I wanted to stand in our relationship."

"What do you mean it became 'personal'?"

I shrugged. "It's complicated."

She nodded. "I see."

"Well, I have to get ready and find Bobby. I'll see you later."

I closed my door to my bedroom behind me after I entered. And I finally let the smirk I had been suppressing to break through.

She wasn't the only one who could play games.

* * *

"Hey, where did you go?" Scott asked as I was walking through the front door that night.

"Out to eat with Bobby. He's parking the car, but he dropped me off at the door."

"A date?" he asked with a bit of a smile.

"Not quite."

"Did he pay?"

"He offered. I didn't turn him down."

"That's not a date?"

"I don't know. You've bought me dinner a few times Mr. Summers, were any of those dates?"

"It depends on your interpretation, Miss Rivers."

I nodded. "Then I guess Bobby and I may have been on a date," I said. "Does that bother you?"

"Bobby's a good guy."

"I didn't ask what you thought of him, I know you think he's a good guy, you've know him for half his life. I asked if it bothered you that I went out with him."

He thought for a moment. "No."

I smiled. "You are such a liar," I said, shaking my head.

"Why do you say that?"

"Because I can feel it."

He nodded. "And what did you feel when you were talking to Jean earlier today?"

"When, at breakfast?"

"No. She says she spoke to you after a training session today."

"Yeah, we did."

"What did you talk about?"

"Why do you care?"

"Because she was asking me questions."

"And?"

"And I was wondering _why_ you were talking to her about us?"

"She was asking me questions, one thing led to another, we ended up on that subject."

"But what did you say?"

I stepped closer to him, lowering my voice as I spoke. "I told her _nothing_. Because I assumed that you would have told her already, or you would eventually tell her, what you felt she needed to know," I said. "She told me that she knew about my 'crush' on you."

"What did you say?"

"I didn't deny it. Even I'm not dumb enough to lie to a psychic." I studied him for a moment. "Have you told her all about it?"

"Not everything."

"Why?"

"Because there are some things she doesn't need to know."

"Like kissing me?"

"Yeah," he said. "But it's not because I'm ashamed of it, Jayden. That's not it at all."

"Then what is it?"

"I'm protecting her."

"Yeah, let me tell you something about women, Scott; the longer you keep '_protecting_' her from that, the more protection _you're_ going to need when she finds out." I looked him over and shook my head. "There's a reason why the quote 'Hell hath no fury like a woman scored' is still being used; it's the truth."

"That's good to know, I'll keep it in mind," he said. "But in the mean time, I need you to promise that you won't provoke Jean until I'm ready to tell her."

"I _didn't_ provoke her. If anything, she provoked me. I don't _want_ to talk to her about us, that's the most uncomfortable conversation I could possibly have with her."

"Then why did you?"

"Because _she_ started it. _She_ was asking _me_ questions. All I did was answer them the best I could." I pulled at the scarf around my neck and unwrapped it. I took in the foyer as I did, noticing that some of the students were watching us. "I'm not a mind reader Scott, I didn't know _what_ you had told her, so I didn't say much. But you need to either talk to her about it or find somewhere else where we can continue to discuss this because we have an audience."

He looked around us, noticing the same students watching us talk that I had seen. "All right, we'll talk later."

"Yeah, why don't you try talking to your wife?" I said, taking a step away.

He grabbed my arm to keep me from going further and stared at me. "Why do you care?"

"I just want to know why you can't talk to her."

"Who said I couldn't?"

"Okay. Why _don't_ you talk to her?" He didn't say anything and I realized something. "You've never talked to her, have you? She's always read your mind. You've _never_ had to vocalize your thoughts or feelings, she just knew."

"There's nothing wrong with that."

I stepped closer to him. "Why can you talk to me but not her?"

"I _can_ talk to her."

"You just choose not to," I said, nodding my head.

He took my arm and began leading me out of the main foyer. He led me down the hall and to his empty, dark classroom. He flipped the light switch and shut the door close. I turned, facing him, with my hands on my hips and stared at him.

"You don't have the right to call my relationship with Jean into question," he said.

"No, but you don't have the right to pull me into some argument you had with her, either."

"I didn't pull you into it and we _didn't_ have an argument," he said. "I was asking what you said to her and why."

"I said nothing other than the obvious."

"Which is what?"

"That we're friends," I said. "That the only reason I was even talking to her about it was because she asked me. I already told you that."

"Why would she ask you about that, though?"

"Because _you_ haven't yet. You don't want me to talk about it with her, but you don't want to, either. She wants to know and you're putting up blocks in your mind. The only person she can find out the truth from is me."

"It's not your place to tell her about it."

"No, it's not. And I wasn't. Are you even _listening_ to what I'm saying?"

"Yeah, I am."

"Then listen to me; you can't have your life both ways."

"What are you talking about?"

"You can't love Jean and be with her, but not talk to her. You can't tell me that we're just friends but you think I'm beautiful, and you love me, and use me to talk to. You _can't_ do that."

"I wasn't aware that I was."

"You are. And you can't do it."

"Why? Because it's unfair to you?"

"And her."

"So you're taking up for her?"

"No, I'm not. I'm being selfish in my concern for her. Jean knows she has your complete and total devotion to her. But she knows how I feel about you. You keep things from her that she knows we talk about, if there's a repeat performance of last night, she's going to keep pushing me for answers because she thinks I'm young and stupid and I'll say anything. I don't need her breathing down my neck."

"So you want me to stop talking to you, then?"

"No. I want you to talk to her. Keep her off my back."

"Why do you hate her so much?"

"I don't."

"I'm not stupid either, you know, and I would really appreciate it if you didn't act like I was."

"I'm not. I don't _hate_ Jean. I don't even know her that well."

"You may not hate her, but you don't like her."

"Yeah. I'm sorry, but I can't help that."

"Why? If you shouldn't like anyone, it's me, not her."

"My dislike for her has nothing to do with her coming back." I raised my hand, cutting him off before he could speak as I saw him open his mouth to reply. "I know you were going to say it did because that's what everyone thinks," I said. "But it's not true."

"Then why don't you like her? You don't know her yet, give it some time."

"I've seen things, Scott. I've felt things and I can't ignore that."

"What have you seen?"

"I can't tell you."

He laughed, but nothing was funny. We were both very serious and the sound of his short laugh hurt me inside. It was filled with pain and confusion and anger. "You're jealous so you're making it up, right?"

"Yeah, that's it. I made up lies that I'm not even going to tell you because I'm jealous. That makes _so_ much sense," I spat sarcastically.

"You're jealous of her, admit it."

"Yes, I am!" I exclaimed, throwing up my hands. "Are you happy? Does it make you happy to know that every time I see you with her I want to break down crying? Does it satisfy you to know that I cried myself to sleep for two weeks because of how much it hurt to see you together? Do you find it pleasing that I have had to rework my whole life in two weeks just so I could come back home without having a complete mental breakdown? Is _that_ what you want?"

"No."

"Then what _do_ you want?"

"You!"

I stopped moving, I dropped my arms to my side and I stared at him. "What?"

"I need you. You can't imagine how much I love you. I don't talk to Jean because I never have. You were right; she's always read my mind. I don't talk to anyone about how I feel, I pushed that away because I always thought it was weak. You are the _only_ person I've _ever_ let in. You're my best friend Jayden and there's so much I'm confused about. But I _need_ you with me."

I felt the need to cry, but refused. I was tired of tears. "Why? You have Jean. You're in love with her. Why do you need me?"

"Because I'm not going to have her very long."

"Scott, she's back, she's not going anywhere."

He didn't say anything for a minute. He leaned up against his door to his classroom, shoved his hands in his pockets and looked down at the floor. When he looked back up at me after a moment, there was a tear sliding down his cheek. "She's sick."

I stared at him for a moment, blinking. "_How_ sick?"

He shook his head as another tear slid out from beneath his glasses. "She's dying."

My heart felt like it stopped as my breathing caught in my throat. "What?"

"She's dying, Jayden."

"Why? What's wrong?"

"The uh…the kinetic energy that was keeping her alive while she was under the water is…it's killing her. It's eating her from the inside, just like a cancer."

"How long have you known?"

"Since she came back."

"How long does she have?"

"We don't know. Hank said maybe a couple of years, but he's not sure."

"Scott, I don't know what to say."

He wiped at the fallen tears on his face and set his jaw. "Say you won't leave. Because I need you. You have _no_ idea how much I need you right now. So _please_ just don't leave me."

I nodded. "I won't leave, I promise."

I watched as he tried so hard to keep himself from crying. As he did his best to keep himself pulled together. But he was doing a horrible job of it. His jaw was clinched so tight, I thought he might break a tooth. His nostrils were flared as he tried to breathe as evenly as possible. His bottom lip was quivering despite how hard he was trying to keep it steady. His cheeks were red from anger. And it hurt me to watch him.

I walked the few steps that separated us and wrapped my arms around him. "I'm losing her all over again. I can't lose her," he said, giving up on holding back as he began to cry.

I didn't know what to say, so I just held him tighter. Scott was the fearless leader, he was strong and always knew what to do. He wasn't supposed to be crying in my arms. But he was.

"I'm so sorry, Scott," I said. "I promise I'll be here for you if you need me. I'm always here for you, always."

He held my close, burying his face into the side of my head. I wound my fingers through his hair at the nape of his neck. "What am I going to do, Jayden?"

"You're going to keep moving," I said, my voice barely above a whisper. "You're going to get up every day and you're going to go on with your life. You have the chance to be with Jean again. Most people _never_ get the chance to see someone they thought they lost and you get her back again. You don't know when you might lose her, but hardly any of us know when we'll lose the people we love. What you're going to do is wake up every morning and be thankful for your chance to be with the person you love and know that I'm going to be here for you every step of the way."

"I don't know if I can lose her again."

"You're not losing her Scott. You're getting time with her that you never thought you would ever have. You _have_ to see it like that. You can't let this kill you, too."

He pulled back, looking at my face, and I could tell he was looking me in the eyes. He held my face in his hands and I watched a few more tears fall from under his glasses. "You know, you're a lot smarter than people give you credit for," he said, a pain filled smile forced across his mouth. "And you're a lot stronger, too."

With my free hand, I wiped away some of his tears from his cheek and ran my fingers across his jaw. "And so are you, Slim. You're going to be okay, you're going to survive this. And I'm going to be right here."

He pulled me in and kissed my forehead. "I'm scared, Jayden," he said, his voice shaking.

"I know. And I don't know what to say to you to keep you from being scared. I don't know what you're going through and I'm not going to pretend that I do. But I love you Scott and I promise you that I'll be there whenever you're scared. I'll be there when you're angry, or you're sad or feel like you're going crazy, and I'll do the best I can to help you."

He was quiet for a moment as he kept his lips pressed against my forehead. "Thank you."

I shook my head. "Don't thank me."

"I love you, you know that, right?"

I looked up at him, tears finally falling from my own eyes. "Yeah, I know," I said. "I love you, too."


	5. My Only Salvation

Disclaimer: I don't own the rights to Marvel or X-Men. This is a very sad thing for me. :( Also a sad thing, I'm a bit ill at the moment, but I'm trying to hammer out at least a chapter a day. Please have patients with me and enjoy this chapter!

* * *

"So what are you wearin' to the weddin'?" Marie asked me the next morning.

"I've got a black dress in my closet somewhere, I'll wear it, I guess," I said from my bathroom, where I was brushing my teeth.

Rogue had woken me up, excited about the ceremony and even more excited about it being one of her first '_real_' dates with Logan. I wasn't sure how I felt about that and I really wasn't sure how I felt about going to the ceremony. Now that I knew Jean was sick, everything seemed to have changed. I was still jealous of her and I didn't like her, only now I felt guilty about it.

"You can't wear black to a weddin'," Marie said, standing in my bathroom doorway.

I rinsed out my mouth and looked at her. "Why not?"

"Because it's black."

"So?" I said, drying my mouth with the back of my hand.

"Black is for funerals, not a weddin'."

"Maybe that's how it works in the south Scarlett O'Hara, but everywhere else, we wear black."

She let out a sigh and rolled her eyes. "Do you not have _any_ other color dress you can wear?"

"I don't know. Go dive through my closet if you think I should wear something else. I have a few other dresses in the back."

She left my doorway for my closet and began going through it. "Your closet is freaky," she said.

"How?" I asked curiously, joining her.

"It's all organized."

I stared at her. "Yours isn't?"

"I'm lucky to even get everything put up. Most of my clothes are all over the floor or my chair."

"Yeah…that would really bother me."

"But bein' freakishly neat doesn't?"

"I am _not_ freakishly neat, thank you very much. I just like to have everything in order so that I know where everything's at."

She laughed. "Call it what you want, but it's still weird," she said, pushing my clothes around to get to my dresses.

She looked through them, commenting on each one as she did. One was too short, another too long, one she didn't like because it was black, another because it was too close to white. One she had already seen me wear at the end of the school year dance the year before and another at the Halloween dance, which I had actually worn to be in my friend Karen's wedding. She pushed the ones she thought were too casual or too fancy out of the way until she reached the dress in the back I had never even worn. As a matter of a fact, it still had the tags on it.

"Why haven't you ever worn this before?" she asked, pulling it from the back of my closet.

"My mother thought it looked too sexy," I said simply, as if her opinion should be reason enough.

"So? You're supposed to look sexy."

"I am?" I asked with an arched eyebrow.

"Maybe in the south we don't know it's okay to wear black to a weddin', but one thing we do know about is how to get our men back or make 'em wish they never lost us."

I shook my head. "I'm not even going to say what else the south is known for." She gave me a look. "What? You're telling me you don't know a few people who walk around the trailer park with a kid on each hip, living in a double wide with Christmas lights still up in the summer?"

"Maybe. But I wasn't one of 'em."

"Never said you were."

"Well now that you've managed to insult the entire population of the south, let's get back to the matter at hand; you're wearin' this dress."

"What about my hair? Will it look stupid with the dress?"

"No," she said, thrusting the dress, hanger and all, into my arms. "You're the sexiest Peter Pan I've ever seen."

I laughed. "Fine." She looked at me anxiously and tapped her foot. "What?"

"Go put it on. I didn't wake you up this early to play Barbie Doll with you only to have you not play along."

"So I was a sexy Peter Pan and now I'm your Barbie Doll?"

"Yeah. Now go on," she said, shooing me with her hands. "I've gotta find something to wear, too."

"Well if you didn't disapprove of everything in my closet, I might let you borrow something," I said as I headed back to the bathroom.

I closed the door and locked it behind me and then began undressing. Growing up, my mother had always bought me the cute, pink, frilly pajama sets. The sort of things that 'all the decent girls' wore. But when I moved to the mansion, I ditched all of that in favor of baggy sweatpants from the school, wife beaters and some of Logan's old flannel shirts. It still amazed me how bad I had been in wanting to please my mother so much that I had even allowed her to dictate what I slept it. I had truly been pathetic.

I folded my pajamas, placing them on the counter of my sink, before slipping into the dress. It was purple with thin gold straps that crossed in the back and continued in the front, across the chest and led into an empire waist. Although it wasn't too low cut in the front, it dipped down pretty far in the back. Which was the reason my mother hated it. She had made the comment that if it had been a few inches lower, you would have been able to see my 'behind'.

I looked at myself in my bathroom mirror, turning and looking over my shoulder to the back. I had bought the dress almost three years before because I loved it. But because of my mother's reaction, I never wore it. I hadn't even tried it on since the day I had bought it. And as I looked at myself, I wondered if perhaps she had been right about it all along.

"I don't know about this," I said, opening the door. "I think I might look like a twelve year old boy in a dress."

"If a twelve-year-old boy had boobs like yours, they might need to start worryin'," she said as I stepped out.

And when I did, I saw she wasn't alone.

"Nice dress," Scott said. He was standing by Rogue wearing a tuxedo. A bowtie hung untied around his collar. "Is it blue?"

"No, it's purple, actually," I said, blushing slightly.

"Is that the one you're wearing for today?"

"Yes," Marie answered for me.

I looked at her. "I don't know yet."

He smiled at me. "You should. It looks nice on you."

I smiled back as my blush grew. "Okay, _why_ are you buttering me up?"

"I need someone to tie my tie. Jean or Ororo usually does it for me, but they're both gone. I was wondering if either of you knew how?"

"No. I can tie a normal one, but I don't know how to tie a bowtie."

"I do," I said.

"Great. So you'll tie it for me?"

I nodded. "Yeah."

Marie looked back and forth between the two of us. "I'm gonna go get something to eat. I'll see ya'll later."

"Okay. Thanks for helping me out," I said.

"No problem," she said. "Bye Scott."

"Bye Rogue," he told her as she walked past him and out into the hall way. I moved over to him and began tying his tie for him. "So how did you learn how to do this?"

"My parents used to go to some fancy parties and I would watch them get dressed. After asking enough time, my dad showed me how to tie one. I always called it his macaroni tie."

He laughed. "Why?"

I shrugged. "That's just what it always looked like to me; bowtie macaroni," I said, finishing the tie and straightening it up. "All done."

He looked down. "Not bad, Rivers."

"Well what did you expect?" I joked with a smile.

"So are you really wearing that dress or are you going to change now that Rogue's gone?"

I laughed. "I don't know. I feel a little self conscious in this one."

"Why?" he asked, shoving his hands into his pockets.

"It's just a bit tight and kind of low."

His brow knitted in confusion. "It doesn't look that low to me."

"It's the back that's cut like that, actually," I said, turning around to show him the back. "See?"

"Yeah, but being a man, I can't say that I see this as a problem."

I turned around and gave him a look of feigned shock. "Well, how would you like your wife to know you feel that way? On the day of your second wedding, no less," I teased.

"I was only trying to boost your confidence, that's all," he said, smiling and showing his dimples.

"You do remember who my father is, yes? He passed down a heavy dose of self confidence. But thanks anyway, Summers," I said with a wink.

"You're welcome," he said, continuing to smile. "And the dress looks great. Your uniforms tighter than that."

"That's true."

"So you _are_ wearing it?"

"You really like it, don't you?"

He ruffled the back of his hair with one of his hands. His smile turned sheepish and he suddenly reminded me of a teenager. It was cute. "Yeah, I do."

"Well, I might wear it, then."

"Okay, well, uh…thanks for tying my tie," he said, backing out of the room. "Oh, and I have the film for today in my room. You can come get it if you want."

"All right. I've got a couple of pictures left on my camera. I'll take them real quick and get it."

"What are you going to take them of?"

I turned away from him and walked to my desk, where I kept my camera. "I'm not sure," I said, taking the cap off the lens. "There's only two left, so it doesn't really matter."

"So let me take one of you."

I laughed. "Yeah, me with my bed head, no makeup, and all dressed up. That would make a _beautiful_ picture," I said sarcastically.

"It would. Now give me your camera."

"No, I don't have any makeup on."

"Yeah, you're young; you can get away with that."

I shook my head but handed it to him anyway. "You can take one of me on one condition."

"Which is what?"

"You let me take one of you to put on my wall," I said, pointing to the still blank space that held only one frame in the center.

"You want me up there?"

"Oh yeah. And you have to pose and look all suave and James Bond like."

"Deal."

I smiled and put up my fingers in a peace sign, but he didn't take the picture. "Why aren't you taking it?" I asked, keeping my smile on.

"Why don't you just…smile?"

"I am."

"You look fake."

I dropped my hand and looked at him. "I beg your pardon? That smile was not fake, it was just slightly…forced."

"You looked like a cheerleader."

"Jerk," I said. "You can't take my picture." I started walking towards the bathroom.

"Where are you going?" he asked.

"I'm changing. I don't have to be anywhere for a couple of more hours, so I'm putting my pajamas back on, going downstairs and making myself some breakfast."

"Jayden?"

I stopped and looked at him from over my shoulder. "What?"

He clicked the button on my camera and a bright flash filled my vision. "Cheese," he said, smiling.

"You really are a jerk," I said, walking back to him and snatching my camera from his hands. "Now it's my turn."

"I'll try not to look like a cheerleader," he joked with a smirk.

"All right. Smile Timothy Dalton."

"Wait, wait!" he said, holding up his hands. "If I'm going to b any Bond, I'm Sean Connery, or Peirce Brosnan at the very least. But I'm _not_ Timothy Dalton."

I rolled my eyes. "Whatever. Be whichever Bond you want. Just give me a picture I can hang up."

He looked at the camera, giving me a smooth, serious look, and I did my best not to laugh. I thought Scott was sexy, but it was because of his boyish good looks, his strong personality, his great way with kids, and his odd, dry humor. But when he was _trying_ to look sexy…that was just a bit funny to me. I looked through the lens and took the picture before I started laughing.

"How about that?" he asked, breaking out of his 'smoldering' look.

"Yeah, works for me," I said. "And that's the last of this film. I'll put it up, change back into pajamas and meet you in your room to get the film you have for me."

"Okay. I have to leave in a few minutes, so…"

I smiled. "I'll hurry, I promise. But I need to get out of this dress first."

He nodded, said that was fine, and then left. I went to my bathroom, changed back into my pajamas, minus the flannel shirt, and went to get the film from Scott in his and Jean's room. He had to leave early because he was supposed to be at the building where they were having the ceremony to make sure everything was in order. Jean had volunteered to do it herself, but Scott insisted that she and Storm go out and relax and let him deal with it.

"You just have three rolls of film?" I asked as he handed them to me.

"Yeah. Do you think I should have gotten more?"

I shrugged. "I don't know. It depends on how many photos you want."

"Well…Jean said she didn't want too many because we had pictures made of our real wedding and she doesn't want ones we already have. She wants more of the reception with everyone than the actual ceremony."

"I can do that."

"Good," he said. "Oh, I was going through some of my stuff and I was getting rid of some things. I thought you might want this." He handed me a soft, faded black T-shirt and I held it up to look at it. It was a Rolling Stones shirt. "I got it at a concert when I was about your age. I was, obviously, a lot skinnier then."

"Oh, and your fat now?"

"I like to think of it as pure muscle."

"Ah, yes, the muscles you were talking about the other day," I said with a laugh.

"To be quite honest, I can't bare to get rid of it. But Jean thinks I need to clean out the stuff I don't wear anymore."

"So out this goes, eh?"

"Yeah. I know it'll be too big on you, but I thought you might like to sleep in it or something."

"Thanks."

"I mean, you don't have to wear it but I thought it might be easier if you threw it out instead of me."

"I couldn't throw this away; it's the Stones."

He smiled. "I knew you would understand."

I nodded. "Have you already had breakfast?"

"No."

"Do you have time to eat?"

He looked at his watch. "No, as a matter of a fact, I'm late. I should have left about ten minutes ago." He looked up at me and smiled. "Thanks for the invitation, though."

I smiled at me. "Maybe I was inviting you so that you could cook for me."

He laughed. "That's not going to happen; I would mess up my tux."

I rolled my eyes at him. "You're worse than a woman."

"Maybe," he said, smiling. "But I really have to go." He bent and gave me a kiss on my cheek. "I'll see you in a few hours."

"Yeah. Be careful."

"You too."

He left, I put the film and T-Shirt in my room and made my way down to the kitchen where Logan and Rogue were.

"What's for breakfast?" I asked.

"I don't know. What're you makin'?" Logan asked with a smirk.

"Oh, you would actually let me cook? I thought you said my food was next to poison?"

"Did I say that?"

"Logan, I can't believe you told her that," Marie said.

He laughed. "You would too if you ever tried her food."

"I cooked in Florida and you didn't complain."

"No, I just offered to take you out somewhere for dinner."

"Well, I asked what was for breakfast and you said whatever I was making, then you insulted my cook." I shook my head. "I think you should cook me breakfast to make up for it."

"What do you want?"

"Something fast. I need to talk to Hank about something before we leave."

"I'm makin' waffles, do you want some?" Rogue asked, as two waffles popped out of the toaster.

"Did you learn the recipe from your Aunt Jemima?"

She laughed. "Absolutely."

"Yeah, if you don't mind."

She took two more waffles out of the box and placed them in the toaster.

"So what do you need to talk to McCoy about?" Logan asked, taking a sip of his glass of milk.

"Just something I've been thinking about."

He looked at me and gave me the eyebrow. "Like what?"

"Nothing important. Just, you know, stuff."

"What kind of stuff?"

"It's medical. You wouldn't understand."

"Try me."

I studied him for a moment. "Okay," I said. "I have these wicked cramps when I'm ovulating and -"

"All right, all right, stop!" he said. "You can talk to Hank about it."

I laughed as I moved over to the island where he was sitting and gave him a kiss. "Sorry furry-face, but I did warn you," I said, pushing myself up to sit on the actual island. "So are you super freakin' excited about the ceremony?"

"Oh yeah," he said, all enthusiasm drained from his voice. "I can't wait."

"At least they're having food. You can't beat a free lunch."

"I'd rather starve."

"Don't mind him," Rogue said, placing a plate with my two waffles on it beside me. "He's just mad because I'm tryin' to get him to wear a suit."

"But he doesn't own a suit," I said, taking the knife Rogue handed me and began spreading creamy peanut butter on my waffles.

"She wants me to rent one," Logan said, giving her a look.

"Don't look at me like that. You're gonna look good in a suit. And when we get done eatin', I'm cuttin' your hair. You can't look like a wild man in a suit."

He looked up at me. "You wanna help me out here, kid?" he whispered.

"How much are you going to give me if I do?" I asked as I bent closer to him.

"Twenty bucks and I'll help you clean the gym tomorrow."

"Make it fifty, I'll clean the gym myself, and then I'll do it."

"Deal."

I sat back up straight. "Rogue, I don't know about a suit," I said. "What about just some nice pants and a button up shirt, but no tie? He would still look pretty spiffy, don't you think?"

"Do I still get to cut his hair?"

I pressed my two waffles together, making a sandwich. "Oh yeah. I'm all for the rugged look, but he's starting to look like Grizzly Addams." He let out a low growl. "What? You like Grizzly Addams or something?"

"No."

I hopped down from the island. "Then a bit of a haircut shouldn't be a problem." I beamed at him. "And you still owe me fifty bucks," I said, giving him a wink. "Thanks for breakfast, Rogue. I'll see you two later."

I left the kitchen and made my way down to the infirmary while I ate my waffle and peanut butter sandwich. My dad used to make them for me for breakfast when I was younger and late for school and he didn't have time to sit down and eat. So eating it reminded me of him and my mother.

My parents had been married for nearly twenty-five years. They had their problems, but I thought they were happy together. And then when I had gone back to California in October, I found out that they were getting a divorce. It had taken me completely by surprise and to some extent, I hadn't recovered from it. I couldn't believe that they could stop loving each other after all those years. It didn't seem possible. And yet they had.

I didn't understand it. I didn't know how they could go through so much together and then just throw it all away. They had had a child of their own before adopting me. But he had been born with green scales and red eyes; a mutant, and so they had decided to put him to sleep and make sure he didn't wake up ever again. For the longest time I believed that they had killed him simply because he was a mutant and they hated us. I didn't understand being able to do that to someone you loved.

And then I met Logan. Suddenly so many things seemed to make sense. I understood the willingness to do anything to keep the person you loved most in the world from hurting, and feeling the security from them that they would do the same for you. And Logan had.

The summer before, I had a vision. In it I was kidnapped, raped, beaten and tortured. Logan was there, too. He saw it all and I watched as they beat and tortured him as well. The only way for us to escape had involved me killing eleven of the twelve men keeping us captive. Logan killed the twelfth one. And when we got home, I had to live with more than the demons of my actions. I also had to live with the fact that an infection had set up in my leg and it had been amputated. My face was slightly disfigured and I was absolutely terrified of anyone touching me, except for Logan. After a month, I only got worse. So I asked Logan to stop my pain and end my life. And he did.

When I woke up from my vision, it left me paranoid. I was scared of everything, everyone, and especially death. I was a nervous wreck and when the energy of Megan Gershwin got stuck in my head, I lived in a constant state of fear. I had panic attacks at the drop of a hat and I didn't know what to do. But then I faced my fears head on, got a grasp of my emotions, and things started to make sense.

My vision had left me scared, but once I really had time to think about it, I realized that what I saw helped me understand my parents much better. They had _loved_ their son, that's why they had done what they did. I knew that because I knew that's why Logan had agreed to end my suffering in my vision.

Perhaps that was why the announcement of their divorce had caught me off guard the way that it had; because I felt like I was finally getting to a point in my life where I could let them in, let them get to know _me_, not who I pretended to be. I was finally starting to let my guard down and wanted to include them in my new life. And then everything changed.

I hadn't spoken to either of my parents since the end of October, when I had seen them last. But as I walked down the halls of the lower level of the mansion, I thought about them and hoped that they were happy.

"Jayden, what brings you down here today, my dear?" Hank asked as I walked into the infirmary.

"I have to ask you about something," I said, dusting the crumbs from my eaten sandwich from my hands.

He peered at me from over the top of his glasses from where he was sitting behind his desk. "Ask me whatever you wish."

I sat in the chair in front of him and rolled around on its wheels for a moment before finally stopping and looked him in the eye. "How bad is Jean?"

He looked puzzled for a moment and then it seemed to click. "Scott told you?" I nodded. He sat up straight in his chair, taking off his glasses and placing them carefully in the pocket of his polo shirt. "She's quite sick," he answered.

"How sick, though?"

"If you're asking me to give you a time line, I'm afraid I can't."

"Scott said you told him she may live a couple of years."

"Yes, I did."

"Is that the best or worst number you could give him?"

He seemed to consider my question and paused before answering. "Jayden, as I told him, I cannot determine how long someone will live. After all, patients diagnosed with terminally ill cancer who have been given mere weeks to live have actually gone on to live for years."

"That's not what I asked. Is two years the maximum or minimum you think she'll live?"

He stared at the notes on his desk for a moment. "Maximum."

"Is there nothing you can't do to help her?"

He let out a deep breath. "Jayden, I've gone through my files over and over, I've studied her blood samples, stared at her CAT scans for hours. There's nothing to my knowledge that can be done."

"What about someone else? Maybe another doctor would know what to do. I mean, when I had that energy stuck in my head you said yourself that they didn't teach you how to deal with energy in medical school. Maybe there's a specialist somewhere that can."

"I've checked. Charles has been using every connection he has in order to search for one. There's no one that we've been able to find that knows how to deal with this type of disease."

"There has to be _someone_ -"

"No," he said, stopping me. He was trying to be polite but I knew he was growing impatient. "There's no one we've been able to find so far. But that doesn't mean we've stopped trying. We're doing everything we can."

"So what do we do? Just sit and wait?"

"There's not much else we can do."

"This is killing Scott."

"I know. And he needs you very much right now."

I let out a ragged sigh. "But I don't know if I can be there for him," I said. "Not the way he wants, anyway."

"Why?"

"I'm still in love with him. I still remember what it felt like to kiss him, to have him kiss me. I still remember what it felt like to have him hold me in his arms. And I don't blame him for choosing Jean once she came back, she's his wife. But he hurt me and that changed a lot of things between us. I don't know how to fix them. I don't know what to do, because I love him and I see things about Jean that other people don't, but I can't tell him that." I shook my head. "I want to help him, I want to be there for him, I just don't know how."

"Love knows no prejudice. If you truly love him, then you will find a way to support him despite your personal feelings for Jean," he said. "And you are a very kind, loving, passionate person, Jayden. You know how to sympathize deeply with someone, even if you don't completely understand their pain."

"I don't know, Hank. I'm not sure if I can be what he needs."

"Sweetheart, you helped him before when he was still grieving over his loss. You can help him through it this time, too."

I stared at him for a moment. "No, I helped him through something he had been going through for nearly a year," I said. "I don't know what to say to a man who's watching his wife slowly die right in front of him."

He reached out his hand and grabbed one of mine. His large hand engulfed my tiny one. "Perhaps you don't have to say anything. Sometimes just being there is enough."

"Yeah," I said. "I hope so."

* * *

"So how are you enjoyin' the reception?" Rogue asked walking up to me.

"Now that I'm done with the photos, it's not too bad," I said.

The wedding ceremony had lasted around twenty minutes and had ended about two hours before. In that time I had proceeded to go through three rolls of film. I had captured everything from them renewing their vows, to the guests blowing bubbles at them as they left the church, to them arriving at the reception hall and, of course, their first dance. I tried to remain professional as possible as I watched them dance together through the lens of my camera, but I was having a difficult time. 'I'll Be' by Edwin McCain was far from one of my favorite songs, as a matter of a fact, I didn't care for it much at all. But the fact that Scott and I had danced to it together, that he had held me while the song played and I had prayed for him to never let me go, it had given the song a new meaning to me. And to watch him dance with Jean to the very same song made my hurt heart a little. Once the song was through and the reception proceeded, I didn't have nearly as hard of a time taking photos. And within a couple of hours I had gone through three rolls of film and was pretty confident that I had gotten most of the guests.

"I'm starvin'; I can't wait for them to serve the real food. These mini quiches ain't cuttin' it."

"Do you know what they're serving?" I asked, putting my camera in its case and placing it in my leather book bag I was using as a purse.

"Chicken con something something."

I laughed. "That's helpful."

"It's some Mexican food, I think."

"Well that would be suiting," I said, grabbing one of the strawberry daiquiris that the waiting brought by on a serving platter. "They are going to Mexico for their second honeymoon after all."

"Yeah," she said, as I sipped down my drink. "Those are non-alcoholic, by the way."

I stared at the glass for a moment. "They would be. I could use to get smashed right about now."

She laughed as she shook her head. "Honey, you got about another year and a half before you'll even be old enough to get smashed. Then I'll take you out and see if you hold your liquor like your father."

I took another sip of my drink a little too quickly and brought on a brain freeze. "What are you doing once this is over?" I asked once it had passed.

"I don't know. Why?"

"Well, I just came into three hundred dollars this afternoon and I was thinking about hitting the mall."

"You throw in gettin' Starbucks and a cookie and I think I might be able to do that," she said with a smile.

"You've got yourself a deal," I said, sitting my glass down on the table behind me. "I suppose I should go say hi to the happy couple."

"Do you mind if I don't go with you? I've already congratulated them and that was about as much mush as I can take on an empty stomach."

"Yeah, it's fine."

"All right. I'm gonna go find Logan."

"Okay, I'll just catch up with you later."

I left the table where I had stashed my bag with my camera and made my way to the middle of the room where Scott and Jean were standing, talking to a group of people I had never seen before. I waited until there was a break in the conversation and Scott noticed me. He smiled at me and then introduced me to them. They were a few of the people that had looked after Scott when his parents had died and he was living in a hospital. After the accident that had killed them, his powers had developed and the only way he had been able to keep from killing people with his optic blasts had been to keep his eyes closed and hidden behind layers and layers of gauze. He was in the hospital for months before the Professor found him and brought him to the mansion. So while he had been in the hospital, he had to have nurses take care of him while he was blind. And apparently he had stayed in touch with them.

After introducing them to me, they said hello, moved on and left me with Scott and Jean.

"I just wanted to say congratulations," I said, noticing how formal and unfamiliar my own speech sounded. I pulled my fitted leather jacket in closer to my body and tried to relax myself. "I know how excited everyone is to have you back Jean. I'm looking forward to getting to know you better." I looked over at Scott and he gave me an approving smile. "And take care of him. He's a good guy."

"I will. I promise," she said, putting her hand on my shoulder for a moment as she smiled at me.

"And you," I said, turning to Scott. His smiled widened, showing his dimples and I felt my heart flutter. "Behave yourself, okay?"

"I always do."

"Yeah, I'm sure." I wrapped my arms around his neck and hugged him. "I love you Scott and I'm glad you're happy," I whispered in his ear. "And I want you to enjoy everyday you have because _you_ deserve it. Do you understand me?"

"Yes ma'am," he said with a bit of a laugh, but I could feel his emotions and I knew he was serious.

I gave him a kiss on the cheek and let him go. "You two have fun in Mexico. You both need a vacation, so enjoy it."

"We will," he said. "And thank you for being here."

I smiled. "I told you Scott; I wouldn't miss this for the world."

He bent and kissed my temple. "Take care of yourself, Jayden."

"Okay."

"Have fun today," Jean said.

"I will," I said. "Bye."

I wanted to be happy, I wanted to enjoy myself, but I couldn't. So much of me was torn. I was jealous of Jean, but I knew she was dying and that changed everything. Every time I thought about how much it hurt to know her feelings for him weren't as true as he thought, it made me angry at her. But then I thought about her being sick and had to push my thought of anger away.

I was always taught to never speak ill of the dead and to never speak ill of those who were dying. Add to that the fact that I had adopted Hank's belief in karma and I refused to allow myself to be mad at a woman who was going to die.

But I couldn't be happy. No matter my personal feelings on life and karma and all that jazz, I didn't agree with Jean. I didn't agree with what she did, or said, or thought. And my knowledge of all that kept me from being happy. But I realized that sometimes in life, we can't always be happy. We just merely have to survive.

* * *

Laurel Thatcher Ulrich once said, 'Well-behaved women seldom make history'. And although odd, I had somewhat adopted that quote as my new life motto. No one knew this was my motto, except for Rogue, and she found it quite humorous and fitting. She did worry about how the results of my motto would affect Logan, however. She seemed to have this very odd notion that he thought I was as close to an angel that this world had and didn't think I could do much wrong. Which was about as disillusioned as one man could get.

When Scott and Jean's reception was over, we came home and Storm, Logan and Bobby were called off on another mission. So Rogue and I changed and after dropping off the film, we hit the mall. After two hours of looking through clothes and shoes, we left the mall for different kind of store.

When we finally got home, it was after ten and Rogue was tired, so she went to bed. I, on the other hand, was hungry and a bit jittery from my Venti Mocha Frappuccino and two cookies and needed something to counteract all of my sugar and caffeine intake. So after taking my bags to my room, I went to the kitchen.

Hank was there.

"Oh, hello Jayden. Did you and Rogue have fun shopping?"

"Yeah, I got some nice clothes. Now all I need is a job so I can actually wear them somewhere."

He smiled. "I'm sure you'll find a job soon. Didn't you fill out quite a few applications yesterday?" I nodded. "Where did you apply?"

"A couple of books stores. Nothing big," I said, moving to the refrigerator and opening the door. I looked through it, trying to find something to eat. "One of them has a coffee shop, too. So I thought I might like to work there. It seemed like it wouldn't be too hard."

"I'm sure you could pick that up quite quickly. You're a very fast learner," he said. "I'm making some tea, would you like some?"

"Does it have any caffeine in it?"

"No."

"Then yes please." I pushed some things around in the refrigerator, but didn't see anything too interesting.

"If you don't mind cold, day old Chinese food, I have some left over Marlay chicken and friend rice in a Styrofoam box with my name on it in the back."

I reached in the back, pulled it out and opened it up. "Thanks," I said, grabbing a fork and sitting down at the island.

He poured tea into a large mug and handed it to me. Then he stopped and stared at me. "What happened to your wrist?" he asked.

"Uh," I said sheepishly. "Well, it's actually quite funny really -"

"Jayden, did you cut yourself?"

"What? No. Why would you think that?"

"You have a history of attempted suicide and there's a bandage on your wrist; what am I supposed to think?"

"I…I don't know, but I didn't _cut_ myself."

"Then why do you have a bandage?"

I let out a sigh and pealed back the tape that held down the gauze before pulling it off and reveiling what was underneath it. "I got a tattoo."

He let out a relieved sigh. "I see," he said.

"Yeah, I'm not going to cut myself, Hank," I said as I stood and walked to the trash can to throw away the bandage. "I promise."

"And how did you come to decide on this particular design?" he asked as I moved back to my seat and sat beside him.

The tattoo I had gotten on my right wrist was a Latin quite, 'Hinc Sola Salus'. It meant 'This is my only salvation'. Under it I had the numbers 45825243.

"Those are the numbers Logan used to have on his dog tags. They were his identification numbers." I shrugged. "He's my salvation."

He gave me a smile. "It's quite fitting then."

"Are you upset with me because I got it?"

"No my dear. It's your personal decision. I'm just happy you haven't hurt yourself."

"Well I don't know about that. It actually hurt quite a bit."

"I didn't realize you had been interested in getting a tattoo. You had never mentioned it before."

"I've been thinking about it for a while. I hadn't been planning on getting it this soon, though. But I thought I should do it while I had the money. I don't know if I'll get a job soon and I was pretty sure that Logan wouldn't be too keen on loaning me enough money to get it."

"Does he know you have it now?"

"No," I said, taking a bit of the chicken and friend rice. "I'll have to tell him when he gets home."

"How do you think he will take the news?"

I shrugged again. "You never know with him. But Rogue seems to think he'll be a bit surprised."

"I'm sure. But do you think he'll be angry?"

"Nah," I said and then took a sip of my tea. I could taste hints of vanilla and caramel. "This is good tea."

"Thank you," he said. He sat on the stool next to mine. "You did very well at the ceremony today. I was quite proud of you."

"Thanks."

"I know you're not exactly happy with the situation, so if you ever need to vent your frustration, you know you can always talk to me, yes?"

I smiled at him. "Yeah, I know," I said. "And thank you."

"Whatever for?"

"Just being yourself and being exactly the type of people I need in my life right now. I don't know what I'd do without you, Hank."

He wrapped his arm around my shoulders. "It is my absolute pleasure to be a part of your life, sweetheart," he said. "And I'm very blessed to have you as a part of mine."

I lay my head on his shoulder. "You're a good Uncle Hank."

He laughed. "The crazy uncle that no one talks about?"

I smiled. "Something like that," I said, and then grew quiet.

"What are you thinking about?" he asked, removing his arm from my shoulder and taking a sip of his tea.

"About how odd life is."

"Is it?"

"Yeah. I mean, a year and a half ago, I never would have thought that I'd be anywhere other than California. And I _never_ could have imagined living here. It's odd to think you were a stranger to me once; now you're my family. It just amazes me to think how much a year can change everything."

"Which is exactly why every moment is precious."

I nodded. "Yeah."

"It's also why there's no point in wasting any time on being angry with someone. You never want someone to die while you're mad at them and you never want to die being mad _at_ anyone."

"So that's why you're happy all the time? You don't want to get pissed in case you drop dead?"

"You never know what might happen."

I laughed as I took another bite of my food. "You're such the optimist McCoy."

He let out a chuckle. "I do try my dear, I do try."

A year could do a lot to people. For me, it had brought me closer to Logan, a family I never could have imagined having, and a greater understanding of what it meant to grow up. There were times when I still felt like a child in a woman's body, but I realized that that was normal. I was never going to be perfect and there was no point in my trying. But in a year I had learned that if I did my very best, even if I missed what I was aiming for, it was enough for me.

I had learned that there was a fine line between caution and paranoia and that being scared to die ultimately made me scared to live.

I learned that I was capable of facing my fears and being strong enough to fight them head on.

I learned to stand up for myself, to make my own decisions, and have my own opinions.

I had learned a lot in a year and I knew that I only had more to learn. And right then, that scared me more than anything.

* * *

"Hey, you asleep?" Logan asked in a soft voice from where he had his head poked through a crack in my door.

"No," I said, rolling over so that I could see him. "Why?"

It was around one in the morning and Logan had just gotten home from a mission. I had been trying to go to sleep for over two hours, but all of the caffeine from earlier was still keeping me away.

Logan pushed himself all the way into my room before closing the door. "Just wanted to see if you and Marie had a good time tonight."

"Yeah, we had fun."

"What did you do?" he asked, moving to the chair by my bed and sitting in it.

"Shopped, looked at shoes, ate cookies. Just girl stuff," I said. "How did the mission go?"

He didn't say anything for a moment and I watched as he raked his fingertips through the hair in his mutton-chops, almost absentmindedly. "By the time we got there," he said, staring straight ahead at my wall instead of looking at me, "he had already killed his parents, his wife and two of his kids." He swore. "He even killed their stupid cat. I walked in the house and stepped right on it. Drake walked in, got one whiff of the house, and started pukin'. You could smell the blood and guts everywhere. 'Ro sent him back to the jet and I went upstairs to see if I could find anyone that was alive."

"Did you?"

He shifted in his seat. "Yeah," he said, "I did. He was in his little girl's room. The two of 'em were still alive, but he'd cut her up pretty bad. One of her hands was missin'. He was in the corner, eatin' it."

I watched him in the darkness of the room and I knew he could still see it all in his mind. He was watching it right then. And he wasn't looking at me because even though he was telling me a lot of what happened, he didn't want me to see it. He knew if he looked me in the eyes, I would.

"What happened?"

He kept staring straight ahead. "I tried to get to the girl before he saw me. I thought I could get her, hand her off to Storm who was standin' outside the door, and then take care of him." He shook his head. "He knew we were there all along. He acted like he couldn't see us, couldn't hear us, but he could. And when I started towards the little girl, he jumped outta the corner. He shot something out of his hands that nailed my shoulders to the wall and he grabbed her."

"What did you do?"

"Before I could even get the spikes out of my shoulders, he killed her. He sliced her throat," he said. "When I finally got myself unstuck, all I could do was pull him off her to stop him from drinkin' her blood." He shook his head again. "She needed me to save her, she was screamin' and cryin' for me to, and I couldn't move till it was too late. I just stood there and watched her die."

"She didn't die because you weren't fast enough. She died because her father was psychotic. There's nothing you could have done to change that."

"I was six feet away from her. She saw me; she knew I was there to help her. And I couldn't."

"But that's not your fault. She died knowing that _someone_ cared about her. You gave her some hope."

"She _died_," he said, his voice rising with anger.

"But she wasn't _alone_," I said. "You were the one who told me you can't always win, you just have to _try_."

He swore. "How can someone do that to their own kid? To his own daughter?"

"I don't know."

"She kept cryin' for him not to. She kept screamin' please don't do it daddy, and I had to stand there and listen to it and all I could think was how could someone do that?" he said. "I know I'm crazy, I know I've done a lotta bad things, kid…but I'm not sick like that."

"That's because you're a good person, Logan. No matter what you've done, you will _never_ be like that. Yeah, maybe you have done some bad things, but that doesn't make you a bad person."

He let out a sigh. "Yeah," he said. "Maybe."

I stared at him for a moment before realizing something. "That's why you came in here, isn't it? Not to ask if I had fun with Rogue."

"Yeah," he admitted quietly.

"Well I'm right here, I'm safe and sound, so you don't have to worry about me."

He gave me a small smile. "I know."

"Do you want to stay in here with me tonight?"

"I thought you were tryin' to break yourself of that?"

"We all need a bit of security sometimes," I said. "Besides, after today, I think I need a bit of comfort myself."

"You sure?"

I nodded. "Yeah."

"All right, move over." I sat up, moved to the far edge of the bed, up against the wall, and moved a pillow over to his side. "What's that on your wrist?"

"Uh…"

"'Uh' what? What is it?"

"It _might_ be a tattoo," I said sheepishly.

"It better be a fake one."

"Not quite."

"You got a _real_ one?" I nodded. "When?"

"Tonight."

"Marie took you?"

"Yeah."

He swore. "She took you to get a tattoo?"

"I would have gone with or without her, so it's not really her fault or anything.

"I thought you said just last week you weren't gonna start tattooin' and piercin' yourself up?"

"I'm not. It's just one tattoo. It's not a big deal."

He let out a sigh. "Let me see it." I showed him the inside of my wrist. He looked down at it and studied it for a moment. "Those are my numbers."

"Yeah."

He looked back up at me. "What does that mean that's above it?"

"It's Latin. It means, 'This is my only salvation'."

He thought for a moment. "All right," he said. "You can keep it."

I laughed. "I don't think you get much of a choice. It's pretty permanent."

He cocked his eyebrow at me. "There's way around that darlin'."

I looked at it and then back up to him. "I like it."

"Well it could've been something a lot worse," he said. "At least it's not Summers' name or something stupid like that."

"I was actually going to have his name written inside a heart, but this one was cheaper," I said as seriously as I could manage. His eyebrow shot up high on his forehead again and I laughed. "It's a joke, dude. Even _I'm_ not that dumb."

"Good."

I lay back down and he lay beside me. I pulled the covered high up around me and snuggled into the side of his shoulder, laying my head on it. "Logan?" I said after a few minutes of silence.

"Hm?"

"I've been thinking about something."

"What?"

"I think I want to change my name."

He raised his head and looked at me. "You wanna change your _name_?"

"Not my first name, I like it, I want to change my middle name."

"What's wrong with the one you got?" he asked, laying his head back down.

"I never cared for it. Hope just never sounded right to me."

"What do you wanna change it to?"

"I don't know. I thought you might pick it out for me."

"Me? Why?"

"Well, my mother gave me my first name and my parents gave me their last name when they adopted me. I want you to give me a middle name."

"Like what?"

I shrugged. "I don't know. Whatever name you want, I guess," I said. "You don't have to decide on it right now. Just think about it."

"All right," he said. "Now go to sleep. You got a lot of work to do tomorrow."

"Okay. Goodnight Logan. Love you."

"Night, love you, too."

I snuggled up closer to his side and closed my eyes. And for the first time that night, I felt peaceful enough to sleep. I just hoped that he could find enough peace with himself to fall asleep too.


	6. Surprises

Disclaimer: I don't own the rights to anything X-Men or Marvel. But I'm still sick and doing my best to try to get up as many chapters as I can. I hope ya'll enjoy.

Note: If ya'll notice an excessive amount of rulers in this chapter, I apologize. I'm having a hard time with them at the moment, for some odd reason. So please just ignore them and keep reading.

* * *

"Jayden, you have a phone call," Bobby said as he walked into the laundry room.

"Who is it?" I asked, catching the stress ball I had been playing with as I bounced it from the walls.

"Some guy."

I laughed. "That's real helpful," I said, taking the phone from him. "Thanks."

"You're welcome."

"Hello?" I said into the phone.

"You know, anyone that uses an FBI agent as a reference must need a job pretty badly," I heard Tony De Luca's voice say. "And you better get it, too."

I laughed as I lifted myself up to sit on top of the washing machine that was out of order. "I'm sorry. I didn't know who else to put down. I couldn't use anyone that's related to me or that I live with. And that's pretty much everyone."

It had been nearly two weeks since I had gone out with Bobby applying for jobs. I had gotten a call that morning informing me that I had gotten the job I had applied for at Wrecker's New and Used Books and Café. I was to start work the following Monday.

"So did you get the job at least?"

"Yeah," I said. "Why? Did you give me a bad reference?"

He laughed. "Yes. I told them that you were a rude, unattractive person and, to be quite honest, you weren't really bright," he joked.

"Well they probably assumed you were lying. You do work for the government after all."

That earned another laugh. "Actually I told them that you were nice, smart and good with people."

"Well thank you, I appreciate it."

"No problem," he said. "So what have you been doing? I haven't spoken to you since we saw each other in January."

"I've been looking for a job, which I found. I've been learning how to drive, and for the past two weeks I've been cleaning the school's gym. I'm washing the towels as we speak."

"So you have another job, too?"

"No. This isn't a job; it's my punishment."

"For what?"

"Quitting college."

"You quit?"

"Yeah, I'm for cut out for forensics science. I'm thinking about going into your profession, Mr. De Luca."

"Well, doesn't _everyone_ want to be a profiler?"

I laughed. "Oh yeah, we all do," I said. "But I'm going to wait until next year before going back to college. Until them, I think I'm just going to take it easy for a while."

"You're young, you have some time. I didn't start working towards being a profiler until I was twenty-three."

"Well now that you know I've been doing nothing since you last saw me, what have you been doing?"

"Cleaning up the mess you made in Canada," he said in a teasing tone.

"Yeah, sorry about that. I didn't mean to make more work for you."

"Don't worry about it. Once the murders stopped, they sent us back. They had all the information we could give them so they didn't need us anymore."

"So are you at home in California?"

"For now, yeah. But I'll probably be leaving again soon."

"Do you know where you'll be going?"

"On vacation."

"Oh, sounds fun," I said, squishing the dress ball in my right hand. "Where are you going?"

"I don't know. I thought about going to Italy. I haven't been there in a few years."

"The old country, eh?"

He gave another small laugh. "Yeah. Have you ever been?"

"No. I've always wanted to, though."

"Maybe you could go with me."

I smiled and felt myself blush. "I don't think so, but thank you."

"Come on, why not?"

"Well I have a job now. I don't think my boss would be too happy if I asked off for vacation as soon as he hired me."

"I could always tell him that I need you for very important FBI business."

I laughed. "Well, I don't think my dad would be too happy about it, either. How would you feel about him tagging along?"

"You're dad scares me a little bit."

"Yeah, he scares a lot of people."

"But I deal with psychopaths on a daily basis."

I smiled. "That's true," I said. "Thank you for inviting me. Perhaps one day I'll be able to go and you could show me around."

"That would be my pleasure, Miss Rivers. The country is absolutely beautiful. I think you would love it."

"Do you go there a lot?"

"I used to. My parents would take my brother and me every summer."

"What happened?"

"They got a divorce. After that my dad couldn't afford to take all three of us there on his own and my mom didn't think it was fair for him to take us for two months."

"That sucks."

"Divorce usually does," he said. "Speaking of which, how are you holding up? I heard your parents got a divorce?"

"Yeah, they did. But I'm holding up pretty well, I guess," I said. "But I don't really see them much anymore, so I don't know that it's really hit me yet."

"Well, I lived with my parents when they split up and it still took a while for it to completely hit me. I would just give it time."

"That seems to be everyone's answer for everything."

He laughed. "Sorry."

"It's fine," I said as I heard someone coming into the laundry room. I looked to the doorway and saw Scott walking in.

"I was thinking of coming to New York after my vacation. I thought maybe we might get together again and do something that doesn't involve horror movies or murderers."

I smiled, forgetting that Scott was even in the room. "Are you asking me out, Tony?"

"Yes ma'am," he said. "I know our last date didn't end too well, but I was hoping you would let me make up for it."

"If you ever come back this way, give me a call, I'd love to take you up on your offer," I said as Scott started loading one of the washing machines. "And if you ever plan another trip to Italy again after this one, let me know. If you give me enough time, I might actually get to go with you."

"And without your dad, right?"

"Right. I'll see if I can leave him at home."

"Okay. I should probably let you go now. I do actually have work to do before I go on vacation."

"Yeah, I've got a ton of towels in the dryer I have to fold and carry upstairs, so I should probably go, too."

"I'm glad you got the job and I hope you don't take it too badly."

I laughed. "Me too."

"Take care Miss Rivers and I'll speak to you later."

"Bye Tony."

"Bye Jayden."

I hung up the phone and looked at Scott. "What are you doing home? I didn't think you and Jean were supposed to be back for another few days."

"Jean got sick so we came back early."

"Is she okay?"

"Yeah, she thinks it's just food poisoning. Hank's checking her out right now. I thought I should try to get some washing done while I'm waiting," he said. "What are you doing?"

"Washing towels for the gym."

"Voluntarily?"

"Nope. It's Chuck's punishment for me quitting college. I'm almost done with today, though, and tomorrow's the last day I have to do anything."

He nodded. "So was that _the_ Tony on the phone?" he asked, adding washing detergent to the washing machine.

"Yeah."

"What did he want?"

"To tease me about using him as a job reference."

He looked over at me. "You used an FBI agent as a reference?"

"Yeah."

"Did it work?"

I nodded. "I start work Monday."

He smiled at me. "Congratulations on your first job," he said. "But you know I would have been happy to have been a reference for you; you didn't have to write down someone from California."

"Thanks, and I know. But I could only use one person from the school, so I put down Xavier. Besides, I knew you were going to be out of town for a while."

"Who else did you use?"

"Dr. Lewis."

"The psychiatrist," he said, nodding. "Good one."

Dr. Lewis was a psychiatrist and a friend of my parents. When I had first started seeing Logan in my visions nearly two years before, my parents had called him to our house to evaluate me. That was the night I would never forget. I had packed up and left home to find Logan. Two months later, when I came back, my parents insisted I see him once again. So I did. And I told him everything. The next month Scott came to my house to invite me to live at the school and told my parents that Dr. Lewis had been in contact with them. After that I thought of the man in a completely new way. And when my parents refused to pay for me to attend college in New York, he was the one who paid my first years tuition. He had also reintroduced me to Tony, who was his nephew by marriage. He had done more for me than he had to, including helping me to get a job, and I owed him more than I would ever be able to repay him.

"So did you and Jean have fun? Before she got sick, at least," I asked.

"Yeah, we had a really nice time," he said, sitting on the empty dryer beside the washing machine where I was sitting. "I got sunburned the first day we went out, though."

"That sucks."

"Yeah."

"I got the pictures from your ceremony back. I put them in your room."

"How did they turn out?"

I shrugged. "Not too bad. Not all of them were out of focus."

He laughed. "Good."

I pulled my legs up and tucked them under me, sitting in an Indian style, and tossed my stress ball from one hand to the other. Hank had given it to me a few days before, hoping it might help me get out some of my pent up aggression. I had mostly used it to pass the time while I was doing the laundry. I had spent quite a few hours bouncing it off the laundry room walls and every once in a while, I'd get lucky and Logan would come check in on me and stay for a while, throwing it back and forth with me. It was only meant to relieve stress but it had helped me relieve quite a bit of boredom, too.

"So you didn't throw out my Stones shirt," Scott said after a few minutes of silence.

I looked down and saw the worn Rolling Stones mouth and tongue logo peaking out from under my zip-up jacket I had on. "Yeah, I told you I wouldn't," I said, looking over at him. "Besides, it smells like you and I love your cologne."

He smiled. "I forgot about that."

"Well, I do," I said. "And it reminds me of you and I kind of missed you while you were gone."

"_Kind_ of?" he repeated, still smiling.

I smiled back. "Should I have missed you more?"

"I don't know."

"Well did you miss me?"

He shrugged, his smile still tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Maybe." I laughed and shook my head. "I did actually miss you," he said. "When I was lying in bed, unable to move because I was sun burnt, I kept expecting to hear you comment on it."

"And what did you expect my comments to be, exactly?"

"Something along the lines of calling me a lobster, making fun of me for not being smart enough to wear sunscreen. I expected to hear you laughing every time I moaned whenever I tried to move."

"You think I'm that mean?"

He smiled again. "No, I think you would make fun of me and be sarcastic, but I think you would probably help take care of me, too."

"Yeah," I said, "probably."

The buzzer on the dryer went off and I hopped down from the washing machine and stuffed the stress ball into the pocket of my jacket. I opened the dryer and pulled out the towels, piling them on top.

"Do you need any help?" he asked.

"I don't know if it counts as punishment if you help."

"I'll tell Xavier I was just trying to pass time until Hank was done with Jean."

"You don't _have_ to; I can do it on my own."

He stood up from where he had been sitting and moved over beside me. "There's a lot of things you can do on your own, but sometimes it's better with extra hands." I snorted, trying to stifle a laugh. "I did _not_ mean that in a perverted way, so don't you dare turn it around like that."

I held up my hands defensively. "Hey, I didn't say anything."

"No, but I know exactly how your mind works, Rivers," he said, tapping the side of my head with one of his fingers. "You're too much like your father."

"In case you didn't notice Summers, _you_ thought the same thing as me or you wouldn't have known what _I_ was thinking."

He nodded. "Okay, you got me there."

With Scott helping me, it only took a little over five minutes to fold all the towels and stack them in the laundry baskets. I didn't have to take them to the gym at a certain time, so I decided to stay and talk to Scott until Hank came and asked him to come to the lab with him. So I said bye and carried the two, full, laundry baskets up to the gym and filled up the towel racks. Then I headed to my room.

I needed a shower before dinner, so I went to my bathroom to turn on the hot water, letting it warm up while I was gathering clean clothes to pull on once I got out. I grabbed my pair of jeans that were so worn out, I was afraid I would have to throw them away soon. I had gotten them before I met Logan. I had bought them from a thrift store knowing they were old because I knew I would need clothes I could get dirty in. They had been what I needed; they fit and were cheap enough to be disposable. The problem was that when I got back home, I still wore them. So despite the frayed hems, the holes in the knees, the fact that they hung around my hips and caused the legs to be so long, I tended to walk on them, it didn't matter, because whenever I put them on, I couldn't help but remember the time I spent with Logan before knowing who he really was. I couldn't help but remember the time in my life when I finally broke free of everything I had been taught and conditioned to do and went after something I wanted. It was clothes, a pair of blue jeans, but they held memories for me that I never wanted to forget or let go of.

I grabbed my jeans, a gray T-shirt and one of Logan's flannel shirts I had 'borrowed' and made my way back to the bathroom. I rushed through it pretty quickly, spurred on by my growling stomach, and went down for dinner.

"Get all you work done?" Logan asked as I joined him at the table.

"Yeah."

"You've just got one more day, darlin'. Think you can make it?"

I laughed. "Yeah, I think I can deal with that," I said, grabbing a plate. We were having spaghetti for dinner and it looked fantastic. "Scott and Jean are back," I informed him, scooping meat balls onto my plate.

"I didn't think they were supposed to be comin' back for a few more days."

"Jean got sick," I said. "Can you pass me a piece of garlic bread, please?"

He did. "How sick?"

"I don't know. Scott said she thought she might have food poisoning."

"You talked to him?"

"Yeah, he was doing some of their laundry while I was doing the gym towels," I said as Rogue and Bobby joined us at the table.

"Where was Jean?"

"The infirmary. Hank was checking her out to see what was wrong."

"Did you talk to Hank?"

"No. He asked Scott to come to the infirmary so that he could talk to him, but he didn't seem worried or upset."

"You sure?"

I paused my fork in front of my mouth, a meatball stabbed on the end, and looked up at him. "Yes I'm sure. I would have picked up on it if he had been worried. I can't read minds but I can read emotions and I would have sensed if something had been wrong," I said. But he didn't believe me. I put my fork down, turned to him, and dropped my voice. "You know she's sick, don't you?"

He didn't say anything for a moment, then he finally nodded. "Yeah."

"How long have you known?"

"Since she got back."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

He looked me in the eye. "It's none of my business."

Even though I was a little upset that he knew about it all along and had kept it from me, I decided not to argue with him about it. "She's fine," I told him. "You have to trust me that I would have known if something were seriously wrong."

He didn't say anything, he just nodded once again, and then I felt him take my hand under the table.

Logan understood the delicate situation and how I felt about it. He had been in love with Jean, she died, and then he fell in love with Rogue. Then I showed up and fell in love with Scott, who still wasn't over Jean. And when she came back, it changed a lot of things. I knew he wouldn't do anything to hurt Marie, but I also knew that no matter how much he protested it, he still had feelings for Jean.

We were all caught in a huge web of emotions and drama and I hated it. Logan understood it was tearing me up and that's why he tried to comfort me in his own silent way. He always knew exactly what I needed to make me feel better.

* * *

After dinner, I was tired. So I decided to go back to my room. I was walking down the hall when I heard someone behind me. I looked over my shoulder and saw Scott.

"How's Jean?" I asked, stopping in the hall.

"She's…fine," he said.

"Does she have food poisoning?"

He shook his head slowly. "No."

I studied him for a moment. She may have been fine, but he wasn't. He seemed stunned. But not upset. I didn't understand.

"Did Hank figure out what was wrong with her, then?"

"There's nothing wrong," he said, walking closer to me.

"I'm missing something, aren't I?

He gave me a slight smile. "I'm going to be a daddy."

"What?"

"Jean's pregnant."

"Wow," I said, smiling at him. "Congratulations Scott. That's fantastic!"

He cocked his head at me. "You're happy?" he asked, sounding confused.

"You said you wanted to have kids. Why wouldn't I be happy?"

He bowed his head. "I thought, maybe, you might be…" he trailed off.

"I might be what?"

He looked back up at me and I met his line of vision. "Mad."

I crossed my arms over my chest. "Why in the world would you think I would be _mad_ because you're going to have a baby? That's…insane."

"I know how you feel about me, and I know how you feel about Jean, so I just thought -"

"Yeah, do me a big favor and _never_ think that again," I said a little more forcefully than I had meant. He visibly straightened up, his whole energy shifted. I hadn't intended to sound so stern, but it had clearly worked. "You're my best friend Scott. I don't care if you have twenty kids with twenty different women, if you're happy and not hurting anyone, than I can be happy for you."

"So you really are happy?"

"You get to be a daddy and I don't have to go through labor. I don't see a down side to that," I said. "Aren't you happy?"

I watched as a goofy grin spread across his face. There was a feeling of complete giddiness coming off him that was just too sweet for words. "Yeah."

I pulled him to me and wrapped me arms around him, giving him a hug. "You're going to be an amazing father," I said. "And I'm so excited to see you get the chance to be one."

"Thank you," he said, holding me tight and close against him. "That means a lot to me, Jayden."

I pulled back and held his face in my hands. "If you ever need anything, just ask. I'm always here."

"I know. Thanks." He looked over to his left. "What's on your wrist?"

I removed my hands from his face and crossed my arms over my chest, tucking them in close to my body. "It's nothing."

He smiled. "That nothing looked a lot like a tattoo."

I let out a forced laugh. "That's ridiculous, of course I didn't get a tattoo," I lied. He kept smiling at me. I let out a sigh. "Okay, so yeah, maybe I did."

"What is it?"

"Nothing."

"Let me see it." I let out another sigh but showed him my wrist. "That's not English," he said.

"No, it's Latin."

"So it's Latin with a bunch of numbers."

"They're Logan's numbers. The ones he had on his dog tags."

"And what do the words mean?"

"They mean, 'This is my only salvation'."

He nodded and gave me a small smile. "I hope my kid is half as dedicated to me as you are to Logan."

"They will be," I said, letting my arm rest at my side. "Why don't you go get something to eat? I'm going to go talk to Hank for a bit. There's something I meant to ask him earlier and forgot."

"Okay, I'll see you later."

I smiled at him. "Yeah, bye."

I left the teacher's wing and made my way downstairs. I was in such a rush to get down to the first floor, I didn't even bother with the elevator. Instead I took the stairwell, two steps at a time. Then I took the elevator that went to the bottom levels and rode it down. After that, I ran all the way to Hank's office. But he wasn't there.

"Hank?" I called out. There was a half eaten Twinkie on his desk. He had to be there somewhere; there was no way he would leave one uneaten. "Hank?" I called again, making my way into the med lab that was connected to his office. "Hank, are you in here?"

I couldn't see him, so I turned around to go back into the other room. As soon as I did, I ran right into a solid wall of blue and white. I stepped back some and looked up to see Hank standing in front of me, wearing his white lab coat.

"Sorry, I had to go to the restroom. What can I do for you, Jayden?"

"I need to talk to you."

"Okay. Come into my office and we can talk about whatever you want." I followed him and sat in the big rolly chair in front of his desk, while he sat in the identical one behind it. "What shall we talk about, then?"

"Jean."

"Aha, and what about her?"

"Scott said she's pregnant."

He nodded, a smile forming on his face. "It's true, she is, yes."

"Will her being sick affect that? I mean, can it hurt the baby?"

"No, the baby will be fine."

"Okay, but you said Jean had a maximum of two years to live. What if something happens before she gives birth?"

"Everything will be taken care of. I'll treat Jean, she'll have another doctor that will treat the baby, and together we'll have all of the bases covered." But I was still concerned. He obviously saw that. "My dear, Jean is in the best place she can be. She is a very well trained doctor herself, but I live here with her. She will never be for want of a doctor."

"I know. It's just…"

"You worry about Scott."

I nodded. "Yeah. I don't want something to happen and him lose Jean again _and_ the baby," I said. "But then I know Jean _can't_ always be there and I worry about him raising a kid on his own."

He let out a light chuckle. "Jayden, do you really believe that Scott would be raising a child on his _own_? Not in _this_ house."

I allowed myself a small smile. "Yeah, but I still worry."

"It's natural to worry about those you love."

"Yeah, but I'm still not quite used to it," I said, tucking my bare feet under me in the chair.

"You want me to tell you that everything will be fine, don't you? You want me to convince you that her illness was just a bit of confusion on my part."

I shook my head. "I want to know that Scott will be okay. I want to know that he cane make it through this again. I want to know that my best friend isn't going to disappear with Jean when she dies."

"I can't tell you that, I'm afraid. The mind is fragile and complex. No one can say for sure how a person will react when faced with a tragedy such as what Scott will have to face in time."

"I know," I said. "I know."

"There's no point in worrying about it, sweetheart."

"Because worrying about things you can't control will drive you mad, right?"

He gave me a short smile. "Right."

I let out a smile and ran my fingers through my short hair, pushing the longer pieces in the front towards the back. I was sure I looked mad already, whether I was or not.

"What am I going to do, Hank?"

He gave me another short smile. "You're going to give it time. Life has a way of working itself out on its own."

Give it time. That's what everyone said. But some didn't have time and that's what worried me.

* * *

"When did you take that picture?" Scott asked, walking into my room.

"Last week," I answered, straightening out the frame I had just hung on my wall.

"Does he know you took it?"

The picture was of Logan. The week before I had gone out to the garden to take some pictures. Marie had been on a mission, so Logan followed me out and sat underneath one of the trees. When he fell asleep, I snapped his picture.

"Probably not. But he'll get over it."

"You've filled the wall up pretty nicely," he said, looking at all of the photos I had taken and hung up.

"Well, that's what four months and two much time gets you," I said, stepping back to look at the wall, making sure the new photo fit in.

There were quite a few of Logan plus the one of Scott doing his James Bond impression I had taken the day of his and Jean's recommitment ceremony. There was one of Rogue helping Logan wash his motorcycle, an abstract shot of Hank that I had taken from behind, one of Bobby sitting on the front steps of the mansion and a picture of the Professor looking quite studiously out the bay window in his office that I had taken at the end of one of our sessions. There were a few others, some of Jean and Storm even, but those were my favorites.

"I like it," he said.

Four months had passed by and soon we found ourselves in the middle of June. I had been working for all four months, doing research on a new career to study in college as well as trying to find a new college to go to. And when I wasn't working or doing research for school, I was taking pictures of people, things, places. I would even take my camera to work and snap pictures on my break. I had no intentions of becoming a photographer, but it helped me focus my energy and attention on something I enjoyed. It helped me keep my mind off things I'd rather not think about.

Like the fact that Jean was five months pregnant with a baby girl. Her and Scott's room was just a couple of doors down and across the hall from mine. There had been mornings when I could hear her vomiting and was stricken with fear, wondering if she was okay. After the first few weeks, Hank gave me a book on pregnancy so that I could keep up with what Jean was going through and not be so worried. It helped, but not much.

"So what are you doing right now aside from hanging up a picture?" Scott asked, looking over at me.

"Nothing. Why?"

"I have a tutoring session set up with one of the students and I need you to sit in on it with me."

"It's summer, school's out, why are you tutoring _anyone_?"

"Because it's either help her out now or make her repeat a year. She's smart enough to catch up; she just needs some one on one teaching to help her understand it all."

"Okay, but why do you need me?"

"I need another woman to sit in since the student's a girl. Jean's been sitting in on them, but she and Ororo are out shopping."

"For the baby?"

"Yeah. Storm's buying some things for her."

"Have you settled on a name yet?"

"No. But we've both worn out the two baby name books for girls we bought."

"Well, you still have a few more months to go. I'm sure you'll fine one you like soon."

"Yeah, I hope so or we'll just have to wait until she gets old enough to name herself," he said. I laughed. "So what do you say to sitting in on my session? You can read or write while I'm doing it, you just can't listen to music, or anything."

"Why?"

"Because you have to be able to heal all conversations going on at all time."

"Do students actually try to accuse you of trying to seduce them?"

"No. But only because the Professor has made sure it's next to impossible. He's very careful about it."

"Have you ever had one try to seduce you?"

"Yeah," he said, "a few."

"Really? Who?"

"No one you know."

"None of the students here?"

He shook his head. "No."

"Okay, so over all, how many?"

"I don't know. Six or seven maybe."

"Six or seven girls have tried to seduce you?"

"I said students, not girls."

"_Guys_ have tried to seduce you, too? You're just universally attractive, are you?"

"They don't know what they're doing. Most of the students here are runaways. They're looking for an adult to give them attention, to act as a parental figure, and when one does, they can…misconstrue the reasoning behind the attention they're receiving."

"You sound like a text book for child psychology, Summers. It's a little freaky."

He gave a bit of a laugh. "We were given books on how to deal with students in those situations when we first started teaching. I pull mine out and go over it every once in a while to make sure I'm doing everything right."

"I'm sure you do," I said with a smile. "You're a good teacher and you're a good leader, maybe that's why; you're always prepared. You know how to handle yourself in sticky situations."

"Yeah, but now that I'm going to have a kid of my own, I'm trying to be even more careful." He shook his head. "I think we're going to be homes schooling her until she's old enough to attend classes here with the other students. I don't know how parents can just send their kids off to school."

I laughed. "I can only imagine how you're going to be when she gets old enough to start dating."

"She's not going to. She can become a nun, or something. But she's not going to go anywhere with boys; I know exactly how they think and I know exactly what they want."

"Wow. You sound just like Logan."

He shrugged one of his shoulders slightly. "Well now I finally understand what he's been going on about this whole time you've been here. If I was him, I wouldn't let me near you either."

I laughed. "That's wonderful," I said. "So when does this tutoring session of yours begin?"

He looked at his watch. "About half an hour. It starts at ten."

I looked at the clock on my nightstand. "I have to be at work at noon, so how long will it last?"

"An hour. Do you think you can make it to work in time?"

"Yeah, that'll work."

He gave me a smile. "Good. I'll see you in thirty minutes."

He left and I took the time before I had the meet him for his tutoring session getting ready for work. I pulled on a pair of jeans that were loose and had a few small tears in the knee and thigh section, but they were comfortable to work in. I slipped on a pair of black Chuck Taylor's and then pulled on a green T-Shirt with a Mountain Dew logo on it. And I did my makeup as quick as I could. I had been keeping my hair short, so I didn't have to bother much with it. All I had to do was take some hair wax and smooth down the pieces that were sticking up from where I had been sleeping. Once I was done getting dressed, I grabbed the brown leather shoulder bag I had been using as a purse and put a few books in it. Then I took one of my flannel shirts and slipped it on before going downstairs to meet Scott.

When I got there, he was already talking to the student.

"Sorry I'm late. I couldn't find my left shoe," I said, taking a seat in the front row of the classroom.

"It's okay, she just got here," Scott said.

"His Miss Rivers," the student named Lindsey said.

"Hey Lindsey, how are you?"

"I'd be better if I didn't have to be tutored," she said. "I hate math."

I laughed. "I do, too," I said. "When I was in college I had a hard time with it. So Dr. McCoy had to help me. It was difficult but after enough time I eventually got the hang of it. Sometimes it's not easy to ask for help, but it's better to have someone who knows what they're doing teach you."

Scott smiled at me. "Lindsey why don't you pull up a seat and we'll get started, okay?"

She nodded. "Yeah, okay."

They started the session and even though I tried looking through books on criminal investigation, what I was considering studying in college, I just couldn't keep my attention on it. I was paying too much attention to Scott.

I had noticed that the older I got, the more attracted I became to men who were good with kids. And Scott was definitely one of them. He had been a teacher for over ten years, so he had to be, but I was amazed by him. I had been in love with him for a year, so I never saw his flaws like other people did, but when it came to kids, no one could deny that Scott was in his element. And there was something so sexy about seeing someone do something that they were talented at.

When the session was over, I was no closer to deciding on a new career to study, but found myself further in love with Scott.

"So, are you going to make it to work in time?" he asked, moving to stand beside me once Lindsey left.

"Yeah, I'll make it," I said, sticking my books back into my bag.

"Are you sure? I can drive you."

"No, I'll be fine."

Although I had been learning how to drive, I hadn't gotten my license yet. I was still studying everything to make sure that I was definitely going to get it when I went to the DMV the next month. Until then, Logan had bought me a bike to take me to and from work. A few people had picked on my about it, but with the weather as nice as it had been that spring and short part of summer, I hadn't minded riding it. That and the fact that I felt less guilty about eating double cheese burgers and chili cheese fries for lunch when I took a forty-five minute bike ride to work four days a week.

"You can drive if you want, I'll ride with you."

I smiled. "Are you not scared of my driving?"

"No, you're a good driver. I've seen you."

I nodded. "Well thanks, but it feels pretty nice outside, so I won't mind riding."

"Why are you working on a Saturday? I thought you only worked Monday through Thursday?"

"I'm covering a shift for someone. I only have to work until four, so it's not going to be too bad," I said. "Plus it's an extra forty dollars, and that ain't not bad."

He laughed. "No, it's not."

I pulled the long strap of my bag over my head, letting it sit on my shoulder and hang by my hip on the other side. "So while I'm off making coffee for rich people and weird tea for hippies, what are you going to be doing?"

"There's a ballgame on."

"Who's playing?"

"The Yankees and Braves."

"Wow that sounds…"

"Boring?"

I laughed as I shrugged. "A little, yeah. Sorry," I said. "But have fun watching it. I'll be back around five, so I'll see you then."

He gave me a smile. "Okay," he said, giving me a kiss on the cheek. "Be careful."

"I will be," I said and gave him a final smile before turning and leaving.

Working at the café and book store wasn't the most thrilling job in the world, but it was easy and I got paid for it. I didn't need the money, if I needed anything, Logan or the Professor bought it for me. So I was putting most of my money into a savings account with the intentions of paying Dr. Lewis back for my college tuition. The tuition that went to waste when I quit school. I knew I wasn't going to be able to pay him back in full by working at a café, but I knew I could try. And that's what I was doing.

* * *

"Excuse me sir, I'm looking for a girl named Jayden. I was told she worked here," I heard a familiar voice say.

I looked through the cut out section in the small wall that divided the café from the bookstore where I worked. A petite blonde woman in her late forties was talking to one of the cashiers, a man named Doug. He was a nice guy and had helped me out when I had first started working there. Although once he found out that Logan was my dad, he kept insisting that he had to be open minded to dating more than just woman, otherwise it wouldn't be fair.

I saw Doug point to me and tell the woman I was working in the coffee shop. I turned my head quickly when she looked my way and pretended to be busy cleaning the counters. A couple of minutes later, the woman was standing on the other side of the counter, directly in front of me.

"Jayden, is that you?"

I looked up from where I was bent over a glass cabinet, cleaning a spotless section of the glass. "Hey mom, what are you doing here?"

My mother smiled at me. "I came to see how you were doing," she said. "I've missed you."

I smiled back at her, though it was forced. "I missed you, too."

"You've…changed."

I nodded, putting my cleaning rag away. "Yeah, a little."

"When did you cut your hair?"

"Back in February," I said. "You hate it, don't you?"

"No, it's just a little…different. That's all." She shook her head. "I always thought you liked it long."

"I did. But I wanted something new. And it's a lot easier to take care of, too."

"It must be nice with the weather being warm."

I nodded. "Yeah," I said. I stared at her for a moment. "Mom, why are you really here?"

She adjusted the strap of her purse that was resting on her shoulder and seemed to fidget a bit as she straightened out the bottom of her shirt before meeting my eyes again. "I know the last time we spoke it wasn't pleasant, but I think we've both had time to think about it all since then. And I wanted to talk to you," she said. "Face to face."

"Okay," I said. "I get off work in twenty minutes. There's a small restaurant right across the street from here. If you go over there, I'll meet you when I'm done."

She nodded at me. "Alright, I'll see you there in twenty minutes, then."

I watched my mother walk out the door and across the street and I knew something was wrong. She was in New York, a state she was absolutely terrified of and hated. She wasn't there just to chat.

And I dreaded finding out _why_ she was there.


	7. Perfectly Imperfect

Disclaimer: I don't own the rights to anything Marvel or X-Men. But please enjoy anyway!

* * *

Once I had finished my shift, I grabbed my things and pushed my bike across the street. After I had it securely chained out front, I went into the restaurant to meet with my mother. She was tucked away in a corner, sitting at a table and drinking what smelled to be green tea. As soon as I spotted her, I pushed my nerves away and moved to meet her.

"Hey," I said, sitting in the chair across from her. "Is the tea any good here?"

She gave me a smile. "It's pretty good, yeah," she said. "Do you like tea?"

"Yeah. Hank makes it all the time for me."

"Hank is…?"

"Dr. McCoy."

She nodded. "Dr. McCoy, right," she said. "And he makes you tea?"

"Yeah, and pretty much whatever else I want. He's a fantastic cook. He makes really great chocolate chip pancakes," I said as a waiter came to our table.

"Let me guess, a double bacon cheese burger, chili cheese fries and a chocolate milkshake," he said, giving me a smile.

"Actually I think I'll have an orange soda instead. And I'll probably have something a little bit lighter to eat."

"So you're changing it up on me?" he joked.

"Sorry but the last time I ate all of that and rode home in this heat, I was sick for three hours."

"Well, we don't want that," he said. "I'll give you some time to look over the menu and I'll be back with your orange soda in just a second."

"Thank you."

"Do you eat here a lot?" my mom asked, taking a sip of her tea.

"Yeah, on my lunch break." I grabbed one of the menus and looked at it for a minute before I sat it down and looked at her. "Why are you here?"

She stirred the tea in her cup as she attempted to avoid my eyes on her. But after spending enough time with Logan, I had picked up on how to give someone a look they couldn't ignore. And finally she looked up at me, but didn't look me in the eye. "I'm getting married," she said.

"Married?"

"Yes."

"But you _just_ got a divorce from daddy. How can you be getting married again?"

"I met someone."

"Who?"

"His name is Mike," she said. "And he's a very sweet and smart man."

"But dad wasn't?"

"Your father was a good man, I never said he wasn't."

"Then what happened?"

"People grow apart, they fall out of love. I'm sorry it happened, but it did."

"Did you even _try_?"

"Yes, I did."

"So you both went to therapy together, you had marriage consoling, yes? You both tried to work through your own problems that may have been adding to your failing marriage? You tried talking to each other to explain what it was that you needed, what you were missing and why? Is that how you tried?"

"No, not quite," she said. "But it's not always that easy to talk to someone and tell them that you're missing something. You of all people should know that, Jayden. You don't open up to anyone."

"Yeah I do," I said. "Because I found out that when I need to keep people I love from leaving, opening up isn't a problem." I stared at her. "If you _really_ loved daddy, there shouldn't have been anything you couldn't have said to him."

"Jayden, you're nineteen, you don't understand. It's not that simple. Even if we _had_ done all of that, it wouldn't have changed the fact that we weren't in love anymore."

"Yeah, I can imagine that it would be hard to be in love with your husband when you're with another man."

"I wasn't cheating on your father," she said, offended.

"So you didn't know this Mike guy then?"

"I knew him, but we weren't dating," she said. "What happened between your father and me happened because of us. No one else was involved. I promise."

I thought about it for a moment and then nodded. "All right," I said. "I apologize for the cheating comment, then."

She let out a sigh, finally looking me in the eye. "I know you're upset, so much has changed and happened over these past couple of years and I know it hasn't been easy on you. But it hasn't been easy on me either. All I want right now is to start over. Can we do that?"

"How?"

"I'll do my best to try not to push you to be someone you're not if you do your best to let me into your life to finally get to know you."

I didn't say anything for a while. I was silent as I thought. I knew she had wanted to do more than just talk, but I had no idea that that had been what she was going to tell me. "Okay," I said. "I'll try to keep myself open to let you get to know me if you won't try to push me into some sort of perfect girl mold, deal?"

She gave me a soft smile. "All right, deal."

As the waited came back to our table to bring my orange soda, my mother excused herself from the table to go to the restroom, and the waiter took her cup to refill her green tea. I was looking over the menu once again when I felt an energy moving my way. I looked up. And when I did, I saw Logan walking towards our table.

"Is everything okay?" I asked.

"Yeah, why?"

"Because you're here."

"I thought you might want a ride home instead of takin' your bike. I can stick it in the trunk."

"Oh, uh…" I ran my hand over the back of my hair. "I'm kind of having lunch _with_ someone," I said.

"Who?"

I didn't have to answer. As he asked the question, my mother was making her way back to our table. When she got there, they exchanged looks. She looked a little startled. He just looked pissed.

"You remember my mother Terry, right?" I asked him.

"Yeah," he said, his voice dry of emotion.

"And mom, I don't think you've ever properly met him, but this is Logan, my father."

She tried giving him a smile, even though it was forced. "I believe the last time we spoke, I may have been a bit…rude. So I uh, I apologize for that," she said, her voice sounding slightly shaky.

He eyed her for a moment, looking a little suspicious of her apology. "Yeah, don't worry about it."

"Did you come to join us?"

"No, I came to see if she needed a ride home."

"Would you care to join us?" she asked, forcing another smile. "If we're both going to be a part of Jayden's life, I think it would be best if we got to know each other a bit better."

Logan looked at me and I shrugged as I took a sip of my orange soda. "Knock yourself out, dude," I said. "It's not like my life can get any weirder than it already is."

So he joined us. And as awkward as I thought it was going to be, I was surprisingly wrong. Despite how much I knew Logan wanted to growl, or snap, or swear, he didn't. He was respectful as my mother spoke, telling him stories about when I was younger. About a girl I no longer was. Although he did seem quite intrigued when my mother offered to send him copies of my old home movies and when I groaned and cringed at the thought, he assumed it would be a good idea to have them.

And when Logan spoke, my mother looked frightened. To begin with anyway. But then it turned to something else; she thought he was hot. My mother was attracted to Logan. _My_ Logan. My _father_. Then it was my turn to be frightened; I hadn't thought my life could get any weirder. Man was I _way_ wrong.

Soon the conversation came back to her engagement and she mentioned she was selling the house.

"Wait, what do you mean you're selling the house?" I said, pausing a French fry that was covered in cheese at my mouth.

"I'm _selling_ it. I'm going to be living with Mike, I don't need it."

"What about dad?"

"Daddy has an apartment."

"So give _him_ the house."

"He doesn't want it."

"Why not? You lived there for over twenty years."

"I know. But Paul agrees that it's too much for him to live in all by himself," she said.

"But…I learned how to ride a bike there. Dad made me a tent in the backyard and we camped out together when I couldn't go to Tracy Stills' slumber party. You used to sit outside and watch me practice gymnastics. I lost my first tooth in that house when daddy tied it to a doorknob and shut the door. I…I grew up there. You can't just _sell_ it."

"Honey, you have your own home now, a new place to make memories. We can't keep the house just because you lost your first tooth there."

"Sounds like a pretty good reason to me," I said.

"I _have_ to sell it. I have no other option. It's a waste of money to not live there and keep it."

"Make that dude Mike sell his house."

"He has a very nice house, he's not going to sell it and I don't want him to."

"So while you're living in a nice house, dad's going to be stuck in a crappy apartment? That doesn't seem fair."

"The money we get from selling it will be _split_ between us. We have it in our divorce agreement. Paul's going to get something out of it, too. I promise."

I was about to reply when Logan's cell phone rang. The ring tone was 'Don't Cha' by the Pussycat Dolls. He gave me an evil look and I smiled sheepishly. "I thought you needed to spice up your phone life a bit."

"When I get done talkin', you're gonna _un_-spice it, kid," he ordered, flipping up his phone and silencing the singing. He spoke for a few moments and from his tone, I could tell they were calling him on a mission. When he hung up, my assumptions were confirmed. "I gotta go," he said as he stood.

"Right now?" I asked as he pulled out his wallet and began thumbing through it.

"Yeah, right now."

"Where?"

"Brooklyn." He handed me a fifty dollar bill. "You good to get home on your own?"

I nodded. "Yeah. Although I probably would've been better if you had told me you weren't going to be able to drive me home to begin with. I wouldn't have ate this much if you had."

"Well I didn't know, did I?"

"No, I suppose not."

"I can give her a ride home. I have a rental car in front," my mother said.

He looked down at me. "That okay with you?"

"Yeah."

He gave me a small smile that looked more like a smirk. "Good," he said, bending to give my forehead a kiss. "Behave yourself darlin', I'll be home tonight."

"Okay. You guys be careful," I said. "Bye."

He ruffled the hair on top of my head as he continued to smile at me. "Bye."

"Love you."

He gave me a wink. "Right back at'cha, kid."

As I watched him leave, I noticed my mother watching me and I knew she saw the affection I had for him that I never had for her. And I knew it hurt her. I just didn't know what to do to stop it from hurting so bad.

* * *

After we finished eating, I loaded up my bike into the back of my mom's car and she drove me home. I had to call the Professor and make sure that it was okay for her to come in and he agreed. Once we got there, I took my things to my room and showed it to her. She was immediately drawn to my wall full of photos.

"Did you take all of these?" she asked.

"Yeah," I said, kicking off my shoes.

"I didn't know you liked taking pictures. Do you want to be a photographer?"

"No," I said, moving to my closet to hang up the flannel shirt I had taken to work with me. "Hank, Dr. McCoy, bought me a camera for Christmas. I've been slightly obsessed with taking pictures since then."

"You're very good at it."

I joined her in looking at the photos as I stood beside her. "Thank you."

"So these people -" she waved her hand, indicating to all of the pictures, "- they're your family now?"

"Yeah, they are."

"They take care of you?" I nodded. "And Logan, he's uh…he's a good father?"

"Yes ma'am, he is. He's a very good father."

"And you're happy here?"

I looked at her. She was a few inches shorter than me so I had to look down in order to meet her eyes. "Yes ma'am."

She gave me a light smile. "Good," she said. "I know you were never happy at home, so if you're happy here, I'm glad."

I smiled back. "Thank you, mom. That means a lot to me."

"So how did it go at work? Did you serve a bunch of hippies' weird tea?" Scott asked, coming to my doorway. "Oh, hi Mrs. Rivers, I didn't know you were here. It's nice to see you again." He came into my room to shake my mother's hand.

"Hello Mr. Summers, it's nice to see you again, too."

"So who won the game?" I asked.

"Huh?"

"The ball game, who won?"

"Oh, the Braves."

"Is that a good thing?"

"Considering that we live with a bunch of Yankee fans, probably not," he said. "Are you going to be staying for a while, Mrs. Rivers?"

"It's Fisher now," she corrected him. "And no, I won't be here very long. I just wanted to check in on Jayden. I'll only be here for today. I'm flying back home tomorrow."

"So you're just here for a quick visit?"

"She's getting married again," I said. "She came to tell me."

He gave my mother a smile. "Congratulations to you and your fiancé."

"Thank you," she said. "I was hoping that Jayden would be in the wedding. Do you think I might be able to steal her away from here for a few days long enough to do that?"

"It might be possible. Although we would miss her quite a bit," he said, giving me a smile. "We've grown pretty attached to her."

"I can see," she said. "But the wedding won't be until next month."

"We might be able to let her go by then."

"You'll probably be ready for a break from me in another month."

He laughed. "Maybe."

I gave him a look and a playful slap on the arm. "You're not supposed to actually agree with me on that, Summers."

"I'm sorry. We will miss you terribly. I'll personally cry myself to sleep at night until you come back."

I smiled. "Much better."

He shook his head and looked back to my mother. "Will you be staying for dinner?"

"No, Jayden and I have just eaten."

He looked a bit confused. "I'm sorry, Jayden I thought you were having lunch with Logan?"

"I was," I said. "Well, _we_ were."

He nodded. "So you and your mother and _Logan_ all had lunch together?"

"Yeah."

A small smile turned the corners of his mouth up. "How lovely," he said and I was the only one to catch the glimmer of amusement in his voice.

I rolled my eyes. "So why didn't you run off to Brooklyn with him?"

"He's not really my type," he joked, his smile widening.

"Very funny," I said dryly.

"Actually, Jean got sick, so I stayed here with her."

"Is she okay?"

"Yeah, she's fine. She just had some bad Chinese or something. Hank gave her some medicine and sent her to bed."

"Who's Jean?" my mother asked.

"She's my wife."

"Oh, I didn't know you were married."

He smiled. "We just renewed our vows this year."

"And she's sick?"

"She's pregnant, actually, and it's brought on some bouts of illness over the past few months. But she's doing well."

"When I was pregnant with my son, I stayed sick the whole nine months. My sister was never sick with either of her pregnancies. Some women are just lucky."

"I didn't realize you had a son," Scott said.

"He passed away when he was just a baby."

"I'm very sorry, ma'am."

"A year later we found Jayden, so not all hope was lost," she said, giving me a smile. "How far along is your wife?"

"Five months."

"Well, I give her my best wishes; the summer months are brutal."

"That's what I hear. But our physician here at the school is doing a wonderful job taking care of her. So we're very grateful for that."

"The school physician is Dr. McCoy, yes?"

"Yes ma'am, that's him," he said. "And speaking of which, Hank was looking for you earlier, Jayden."

"Did he say what he wanted?"

"He said you got the book you ordered on criminal profiling in the mail today."

"Awesome. That means I can start studying."

"Because you don't do enough of that," he said sarcastically with a grin.

"I thought you were studying forensic science," my mom said.

"I was," I said. "But I decided it's not the best field for me."

"But that's what you always wanted to do. What happened?"

"I had to sit through a class that was very glib about the murder of a four year old. I couldn't handle that," I said. "So I think I'm going to try criminal profiling."

"I wasn't aware that you were interested in that."

"I wasn't. Not until I saw Tony De Luca last year at Karen's wedding. Do you remember him?"

She nodded. "Yes, I remember him."

"Well we started talking after the wedding and he's a profiler for the FBI now. I thought about studying it, too."

"And you think you'll be good at it?"

"I don't know, but I can try."

"Well you weren't _bad_ at forensic science. You were really good at it, actually," Scott said. "But I think you'll do well in a psychological field. You're smart enough to do either one, though."

I smiled and felt myself blush. "Thank you."

"She's always been a very smart girl," my mother said.

"She still is. And she's very sweet, too."

My blush deepened but I laughed. "And what are you buttering me up for?"

"Nothing, I just happened to think you're sweet."

"Yeah, I don't think so."

"Why not?" he asked with a wicked grin. "Maybe you get it from your father?"

That made me laugh again and my mother looked confused. "Do you not get along with him Mr. Summers?"

"You can call me Scott, and uh…Logan and I get along okay…when we have to."

"And even then not very well," I added.

"Well thank you for reminding me of that, Rivers, but I should probably go."

"What, you don't want to hang out with a couple of cool gals like us?"

He smiled, showing off his dimples. "I would love nothing more than to hang out with the two of you, but I should probably go check on the pregnant gal I'm married to."

I nodded. "Yeah, that's a good idea. Tell her I hope she feels better."

"I will," he said. "Miss Fisher, I hope you have a nice time while you're here and I hope you have a safe trip home tomorrow. It was nice to see you again."

"Thank you. It was nice to see you again, too. And congratulations to you and your wife on your baby."

He grinned. "Thanks."

"Bye Summers," I said, giving him a smile.

He looked over at me, returning my smile. "Bye, I'll see you at dinner."

As he left, he closed my door. My mother looked at me and I saw her smiling from the corner of my eye. "What?" I asked, placing my attention on my wall of photos.

"You like him, don't you."

"Maybe."

"Whether you want to believe it or not, I raised you, I do know you a little bit, and I know when you have a crush on someone."

"Okay, I have a bit of a crush on him."

"Is that all?"

I looked over at her. "What doe you mean is that all? He's married and has a _kid_ on the way. It doesn't matter if it's all or not."

"Does Logan know?" she asked, and it was odd hearing her say his name.

"Yeah."

"Is that why they don't get along?"

I laughed. "Logan hated Scott _way_ before he ever met me."

"But he does know you have a crush on him, so I think that would add some tension."

"It does, but _everyone_ knows about it, so it's not that big of a deal."

"Everyone knows?" she asked.

"Oh yeah, it's not a well kept secret."

"But he doesn't know."

"Yeah he does."

"He doesn't act like it."

"But he does."

"I don't think so."

"Mom, he _knows_," I said. "I _told_ him."

She looked confused. "But if he's married, why would you tell him that?"

I let out a sigh. "He wasn't exactly married at the time." I stared at the picture of Scott in his tuxedo doing his James Bond pose. "So I told him I was in love with him." I shrugged. "I guess we just weren't mean to be anything more than just friends."

"You're nineteen; you'll get over it, move on and find someone else."

I looked over at her. "I'm going to move on because I already am, and I might find someone else eventually, but I'm not going to get over it."

"You never know. Time does things to us we never imagined in would."

And she was right, it did. But not all of those things were good.

"Screw time," I muttered. Then I let out a sigh and looked over at her. "Do you want to take a walk?"

She nodded. "Yeah, I think I would like that."

I led my mother downstairs and out into the garden. I needed some time to get my thoughts together while she was there. I wanted her to see that I had changed and that I wasn't the same little girl who she saw last, the one who was scared and broken and confused. I had grown, I had gotten better, and I needed her to know that. To _see_ that. And the garden was where I felt the most relaxed, so I took her there.

"He really loves you, doesn't he?" she said as we passed by the rose bushes.

"Who? Logan?" She nodded. "Yeah, he does."

"He's very protective of you, so I know we don't completely disagree on everything," she said with a bit of a forced smile. "You know, he's not as bad as I thought he was. I apologize for everything I said to you about him before."

"Don't worry about it."

"Do you think if things had been different that you could have loved your father and me the way you love him?"

"Mom, I always loved you. You and dad gave me a wonderful life. Loving you was never a problem."

"I didn't say that. I wanted to know if you could have ever loved us like him."

I thought for a moment before answering. "Logan's…different. Comparing him to you and daddy isn't fair."

"Jayden, I just want you to be honest with me, okay?"

I stopped in front of one of the big oak trees in the corner of the school's garden and dug my bare toes into the cold dirt and did my best to think of a way without hurting her more than I already had. "I loved you and daddy, I still do, but no; I couldn't feel the same way about you as I feel about him. He's…" I let out a breath. "He's the first person who ever made me feel like it was okay to be me. He was the only person I had ever seen get _so_ protective of me, but in a good way. He made me feel safe and comfortable."

"We didn't?"

"It was different with him. I knew you both loved me and did everything you could to take care of me. But with him…I _felt_ it. It just radiated off him." I looked her in the eyes. "He was the first person I ever felt connected to. And I can't explain to you what that meant to me. There was this man, a complete stranger, who I had a connection with." I shook my head. "Do you know what it's like to look in someone's eyes, hear the sound of their voice, feel the touch of their hand and…just know that you're home?"

"No," she said. "I don't."

"I didn't run away from home with the intentions of meeting my father. I just knew that the only way to get this man out of my head, to stop _seeing_ him, was to find him," I said. "But once I found him, I knew I couldn't just leave. When I called you and dad to come get me, it was one of the hardest things I've ever had to do."

"Why?"

"Because I loved him before I even knew who he was. Once I found out, it only made everything make more sense," I said. "He's my father, and he's a good one, but he's also my best friend. He's my teacher, my mentor, my protector." I let out another breath. "When you and dad came to get me in Canada and I asked you to wait until he got there, you asked me who he was and I said he was everything. I meant that."

"But how could you feel that way about a stranger but not your parents?"

"It's not as simple as that, mom. Professor Xavier says our minds are linked. That's why I see him the way that I do, why I have so many visions of him." I ran my fingers through the back of my hair. "Sometimes…we see things that other one's seeing. We feel what the other one's feeling. We can hear what the other one's hearing, or thinking. When you're that close to someone when you've just met them, they don't seem like a stranger anymore."

She shook her head. "Jayden, I'm _trying_ to understand, but this is all new and to be quite honest, it's confusing."

I laughed. "Yeah, well, welcome to my world," I said. "I'll know you're really getting it when you start saying it's 'complicated'."

"I'm sorry I never believed you before."

I gave her a small smile. "I think I needed you not to believe me."

"Why?"

"Because if you had, it would have been too easy. I think I needed you not to believe me so that I knew I believed it solely because of me. Not because someone was telling me to or because it was easier. I fought for my opinions on what I thought. And I think that was important for me.

She shook her head again, but gave me a smile. "I can't believe how much you've changed and grown. Believe it or not, I'm very proud of you."

"Thank you."

And I had changed. Slowly at first, and sometime reluctantly, but over time, I had become a different person. I still had flaws, I was never going to be perfect, but I had overcome a lot of my problems and had become a much _stronger_ person. I still had some fears, some insecurities, and I was still confused by a lot of things in my life. But at nearly twenty years of age, I finally liked who I was. I was happy with me. And that meant more to me than I ever imagined it would.

My mother looked off for a moment, her expression seeing odd, and then she looked up to my face. "What's that on your wrist?"

I smiled. "A tattoo."

"You got a tattoo? When?"

"February."

"Isn't that when you said you cut your hair off, too?"

"Yeah, but it didn't have anything to do with each other, really."

"What does it say?"

"Hinc sola salus."

"What language is that?"

"Latin."

"I didn't know you knew Latin."

"Hank's teaching me."

"I didn't know he knew it."

"He knows it and about seven others. He's a very smart man."

"Okay, so what does it mean?"

Quickly after getting my tattoo, I realized why most people didn't have them with words written in other languages; you always had to explain what it meant.

"It means, 'This is my only salvation'," I said.

"What are the numbers?" she asked, confused.

"Um…they're Logan's. He used to have a set of dog tags and these were his numbers."

"You think he saved you?"

"In a sense, yeah."

"From who?"

"Myself."

"How?"

I let out a sigh as I watched a group of students playing nearby, squirting each other with water guns. "When I met him, I did everything I was told, I was scared, I was confused, and I didn't know what to do. Even when I moved here, things were still confusing. But he really helped me," I said. "Last year was really tough for me. I had a horrible vision and it terrified me. I had a bad accident when I was struck by lightening, fell into a pool and nearly died. After that I kept having these nightmares that I _thought_ were visions, but they were memories from someone else. I thought they were memories I had forgotten and…I was _so_ scared that they were real. Then you and dad said you were getting a divorce, and my birth mother died. I didn't know what to do."

"But he did?"

"He seemed to make sense of it all. And what he couldn't make sense of, he promised to help me with or protect me from. I know you may not believe it, but he's a brilliant man and he helped me so much when I was in college. He's…" I laughed slightly. "He's actually sweet, you know? I mean, not in a conventional way, or anything. And he may not look like it, but he's a good man and he takes good care of me. If it wasn't for him, I know I wouldn't have made it this past year, and I'm not exaggerating. I seriously either would have gone completely insane or…I would have killed myself." I let out a sigh. "He saved me from that."

"You honestly believe you would have killed yourself if it wasn't for him?"

I watched the kids who had been playing nearby run off around the opposite side of the mansion, beyond my line of vision. But I could still hear them laughing and I missed the innocence that they had.

"I thought I lost him once. He went missing for over a week and I thought he was dead. So I tried drowning myself."

"You tried to _kill_ yourself?" She seemed to be taken completely by surprise.

"Just once and I'm not proud of it by any means. But I know that's how I am, I _know_ I need him," I said. "And now I know that if I do ever lose him, I'm strong enough to get through it."

I watched my mother as she stood in front of me, watching me and absorbing everything I was telling her. I could tell that she saw the dramatic change in me. And I had a feeling the change was no where near being done. I still had a lot to go through.

* * *

"Did your mom already leave?" Logan asked that night, walking into my room.

"Yeah, she left a couple of hours ago," I said as I made up my bed. I had stripped my sheets to wash them and was replacing them with a set of hot pink ones.

"Are you sad about that?"

I gave him a look from where I was on the corner of my bed, fighting to get a fitted sheet onto my mattress. "Not in the least."

"She didn't seem as bad as she used to be."

"Are you taking up for her?"

"No."

I moved to the bottom of my bed to finish putting on the fitted sheet. "Well she's _not_ as bad as she used to be, but that's what happens when you're love struck; you get nicer."

"Is that what happens?"

"Oh yeah," I said. "Toss me that sheet in my chair." He threw it to me and I caught it. Then I stood up and started stretching it out across my bed. "She thinks you're hot now, by the way."

I felt a smug smile cross his face. "Did she tell you that?"

"Dude, if she _told_ me that, I would've like, left the room and barfed," I said, looking at him. "You're an attractive guy, _everyone_ knows that, but my mother isn't allowed to be attracted to you; that's just straight up freakin' creepy."

His smile turned to a smirk. "I've got more of a thing for redheads, but she ain't too bad."

"Oh that's just gross. Don't even start on that. If she can't think you're hot, then you're most definitely not allowed to think she is. Do you even understand how _wrong_ that is?"

He moved and sat in the seat where my top sheet had just been. "Well what do you think about the weddin'?"

"I think I'm going to be faking sick that week," I said, tossing my furry leopard print comforter onto my bed.

"Well I can always go with you, but I don't wanna make the groom jealous."

I shot him another look. "Don't even go there."

He laughed. "Did she have _fun_ here?" he asked, putting mock emphasis on the word 'fun'.

I smoothed my comforter out and sat on my bed. "No, she didn't. She thinks my family is a bunch of freaks. Polite ones, but freaks all the same."

"We _are_ freaks."

"That could be why she thinks that then."

He looked at me, his expression turned serious. "You don't miss her at all?"

I pulled my feet up onto my bed and hugged my legs, propping my chin on my knees. "It's so weird, but…no. We're both completely different people than we were two years ago. I don't know her, and even though she's trying, she doesn't know me. Missing her is like missing a stranger."

"She's your mother."

I shook my head. "It doesn't feel like it." I pulled off my socks and threw them into my laundry hamper on the other side of my room. "So have you decided on a new middle name for me yet?"

He raked his fingers through his muttonchops. "No, not yet," he said. "But I still don't see what's wrong with the one you got."

"I told you; I want a name from you."

"What if I picked Fred?"

I laughed. "Jayden Fred…that actually works. But I think it's because Jayden's typically a boy's name."

"Is it?"

"Yeah. You have no idea how badly I was teased at school for it."

"Well I'm sure no one would tease you if they found out your middle name was Fred," he joked.

"Hey, if that's the name you pick out with love, I'd be happy to defend it."

He smiled and gave me a wink. "I'll try to think of something a little better than that, all right?"

I nodded. "All right."

"Are you gettin' ready for bed?"

"I am ready. I've already brushed my teeth, took off my make up and made my bed like a good little girl. Why?"

"Just wonderin' if you want me to leave or not?"

"No, actually would you mind staying in here for a little bit?"

He shook his head. "No, I don't mind."

"Good," I said, moving to get under my covers. "Would you be a dear and turn the light off then?"

I grinned at him and he shook his head. But he stood, walked to my doorway where my light switch was, and turned it off. Then he came back and sat in the chair by my bed.

Ever since I had made the decision at the beginning of the year to be more independent and not sleep in the same bad, I had pretty much stuck to it. Some nights I would slip and when I needed comfort, I would go crawl in bed and snuggle up with him. And ever since I had started my sessions with Xavier four months before, my visions of Logan had really slowed down. But they hadn't stopped. So there were still nights when I had them and he would come check on me and end up staying in the chair by my bed until I fell asleep again.

I hadn't been able to break myself completely, although I was working on it. But at times, I thought he needed me to be there to comfort him as much as I needed him there for me. And I didn't mind that.

"What're you doin' tomorrow?" Logan asked as I settled into my bed.

"I don't know, nothing I suppose. Why?"

"Thought you might wanna take a ride somewhere."

"Like where?"

He shrugged in the dark. "Wherever you wanna go. We haven't been anywhere in a while."

"Let me guess, Marie's busy tomorrow?"

"I don't know and it doesn't matter. It's just gonna be you and me."

"Do you have to counteract all of the time I spent with my mother today?"

"Yeah, she's curruptin' you, kid," he joked.

I laughed. "I can deal with spending some time with you."

"Good. 'Cause you've been workin' too hard."

"I work less than you do," I reminded him.

"Yeah, but I'm old, I'm supposed to work."

"I'm nearly twenty; I think that's an acceptable age to have a job."

"All right, but I'm you're father, so I should work more than you."

"Okay, if you want to win this argument so badly, I'll let you win. I'm too tired to argue with you over the fact that I'm right."

"You're tired 'cause you had to work today. It's a Saturday; even _I_ don't work those. So you ain't lettin' me win anything; you work too hard."

"I make _coffee_. That's not exactly hard labor," I said. "But thanks for the concern."

"I don't know why you're workin' in the first place. You're gonna have to work for the rest of your life, you shouldn't while you don't have to."

I smiled. "Maybe I'll just find some rich, old guy to marry and I _won't_ have to work for the rest of my life."

"Why an old guy?"

"Because they die sooner than the younger ones."

"No one ever told me that," he said with a bit of a smirk.

"Well you wouldn't be a good sugar daddy anyway, so it doesn't matter."

"How do you even know what a sugar daddy is?"

I smiled. "You have _no_ idea what girls at private school talk about. They try to act innocent, but they're dirty, perverted girls."

I saw his eyebrow shoot up high on his forehead. "Were you?"

"Absolutely not. I didn't understand anything they were talking about," I said, doing my best not to laugh.

He gave me another smirk. "Good. You don't need to know about that stuff." I adjusted in bed and made a groaning sound. "You alright?"

"Yeah, I've just got a bit of a stomachache," I said. "I think I ate too much. I had three brownies and a big Mocha coffee at work, then I ate all of that food at lunch and when mom left, Hank said he made a chocolate cheesecake so I ate two pieces of it. I'm not exactly the brightest bulb, eh?"

"I'm just glad you're eatin' again. You got too skinny last year."

"I did not. And you say 'eating again' like I had stopped eating altogether."

"You did."

"No, I just…went a little overboard on the food thing. But I wasn't doing it to lose weight, it was to get healthy. I had just started training, so I needed to make a big change. I still ate; it was just really crappy food."

"It'd rather not eat."

I laughed. "Well, with this pain in my stomach, I wish I wouldn't have eaten it all, either."

"If you don't feel better by the mornin', you can go see Hank and see if he can give you anything. All right?"

"Yeah."

"Good. Now go to sleep, I'm gonna be right here."

"Okay. Goodnight, love you."

"Night darlin', love you too."

Even feeling ill wasn't so bad when Logan was there with me. And I was very grateful for that.

* * *

"It's a stomach virus, I'm afraid," Hank said to me the next day.

I had woken up at around three in the morning, sick and vomiting. When I finally got back to sleep, I woke up just a couple of hours later, my stomach cramping and vomiting again. I was alternating between having hot flashes and sweating, and feeling like I was freezing and shaking violently. By seven o'clock I was too sick to try to wait it out and made my way down to the infirmary to have Hank check me out.

"I don't _want_ a stomach virus," I moaned. "I don't want to be sick."

"Well there's nothing I can do about that, my dear. I can give you some Aspirin to help you deal with your body aches, but you have to let viruses run their course."

"I'll take the Aspirin but what am I going to do tomorrow? I have to work."

"You're sick, you're not goin'," Logan said. As I was making my way down the hall that morning to go to the infirmary, Logan heard me and walked down with me.

"I haven't called in _once_ in four months, I'm not going to start now."

"I agree with Logan; you shouldn't go to work sick," Hank said.

"I'll be fine. I haven't thrown up in a few hours, I'll probably be all better by tomorrow."

"And that may be, but you're contagious. If you go to work, you cold contaminate the costumers and their orders. That wouldn't be a very good thing, now would it?"

I let out a sigh. "No, I guess not," I said. "But how long am I going to be contagious?"

"I would give it a couple of days. You may be well enough to go back to work by Wednesday. Although I would feel more comfortable if you had all four of your work days off this week to recover. Stomach viruses can take a lot of you."

"_Literally_," I muttered.

"Unfortunately, yes. But as unpleasant as vomiting or any of the, um…_other_ side effects may be," he said and I laughed, "it helps to rid your body of the virus, so it's actually quite helpful."

"They still suck."

He nodded. "Yes, I agree, they do."

"I don't think I can take a whole week off work," I said, bowing my head as I suddenly felt dizzy.

"I'll talk to 'em," Logan said.

I glanced up at him quickly. "You would scare them and then they would fire me," I said. "Unless you talked to Doug, and then he would just want to know if you were free this weekend."

"Then McCoy can call. If they got a doctor tellin' 'em you can't come in, they'll let you off," he said. "Or would he scare 'em, too?"

I laughed at his sarcasm. "No, I don't think he would scare them."

"I'll call them later this afternoon and discuss it with them then, if that's all right with you?"

"Yeah, that's fine," I said.

"Good," he said. "Now I suggest taking it easy for today and until you feel better. Try not to eat anything too heavy because it will only make you feel sick and possibly vomit again. But most importantly, because you've lost so much fluid, you need to drink lots of liquids to make up for what you've lost."

"Why do doctors always tell you to drink liquids? I mean, you can't really drink a solid can you?"

Hank laughed. "No, to the best of my knowledge you cannot drink a solid," he said.

"Just checking."

"Well, I also suggest getting some sleep. Do you think you might be able to do that?"

"I don't know. My stomach's kind of cramping. It's what kept me up earlier."

He nodded. "I can give you some sleeping pills to help you sleep today, but I'd rather not give you too much medication in case you get sick again, okay?"

"Yeah, that works for me," I said, stepping down from the examination table. I swayed a bit as I was still dizzy and Logan grabbed me, holding me up. "Thanks."

"Don't worry about it," he said. "Get your pills from Hank and I'll take you up to bed."

So I did. Hank gave me some Aspirin and some sleeping pills and made me drink a whole bottle of Gatorade before letting me leave. Then Logan helped me to my room and when we got there, he straightened out my bed and tucked the blankets in around me. Then he sat in the chair beside my bed.

"You should be very thankful that you can't get sick," I said to him.

He gave a small smile. "I am."

I looked out my window and saw that it had started raining. And judging by the color of the clouds, a storm wasn't too far away.

"Why did you decide to join the X-Men?"

"I didn't really decide. I kind'a got roped into it and just stuck around."

"How did you get roped into it?"

"Right after me and Marie got here, she ran off. I went to find her but Magneto showed up and took her. I just went with the team to get her back. Then I left for Canada and when I got back, Stryker and his men invaded the school. So I went with 'em to find him. After that Jean died, or we thought she did, and I went to Canada. That's when you found me." He shook his head. "When I got back, they just assumed I was part of the team."

"But you never said no."

He gave me a smirk. "Getting' to beat the crap outta thugs isn't exactly something I turn down that often, darlin'."

I laughed. "That's true."

"Why are you thinkin' about that?"

"Just curious."

"You still wantin' to join the team?"

I shrugged slightly from where I was in my bed. "I don't know. I _want_ to; I just don't know how well I would do on it."

"You'd be good on the team. I don't want you on it, but you'd be good."

"_Why_ do you think I'd be good?"

"You're like me, kid; when it comes to fightin', it's in your blood. You just gotta get out and get some experience that not the Danger Room."

"Well I've beaten up six guys, fought off the Blind Man Murderer and killed his daughter. How much more experience do I need?"

"You beat up six guys 'cause you were a heck of a lot stronger than they were and you killed that girl 'cause she was in a bed and couldn't fight you. That Blind Man Murderer, he's the kind of guy you're gonna be fightin' on the team. Sick, twisted S.O.B.s who're mutants and they know how to fight. The more you fight guys like him instead of a computer, the better you're gonna get at fightin'."

"So you think I should track down crazy mutants to fight as part of my training?"

He smiled. "No. But I think once you get on the team and start fightin' 'em, you'll pick it up pretty quick. You're a fast learner, I'll give you that."

I smiled back at him. "Thank you."

"How're those sleepin' pills workin'?"

"Very well," I said. "I'm already getting sleepy."

"Good. Maybe you can sleep through today and feel better when you wake up."

"Are you going to leave when I go to sleep?"

"Do you want me to?"

I looked out the window once again at the storm that was getting closer. "No," I said. "Would you stay with me, please?"

He nodded. "Yeah." He stood from my chair and motioned for me to move over. I did and he lay down beside me. "Better?"

I curled up beside him and nodded. "Yeah."

Even though it was still early summer, the virus was making me cold. So I pulled the covers up around my neck. The mixture of Logan being beside me, the comforting sound of the rain falling against my windows, and the sleeping pills taking effect all made me feel comfortable enough to fall back to sleep. And I hoped that when I woke up, I _would _feel better.

* * *

I woke up around four o'clock that afternoon. I was burning up and starving. Logan was still with me, but he wasn't asleep. He was watching my TV.

"Anything good on?" I asked.

"Not really."

I peered at the screen over his chest. "Are you watching the Food Network?"

"Yeah."

I laughed. "You're so weird."

He looked over and gave me the eyebrow. "You're not?"

"No, I am," I admitted. "But I can't watch the Food Network, not right now. I might start puking again."

I sat up and tried getting out of bed. But my body was still aching and I felt dizzy. As I was crawling over Logan's legs, my foot got stuck and I rolled off the side of the bed. I caught myself on my hands and didn't hurt anything, but when I heard Logan laughing I wish I had of just so I could berate him for laughing.

"You know, I'm sick and that just really wasn't funny," I said. "_Or_ nice."

"Did you get hurt?"

"No, but you didn't know that," I said, standing up. "So nice to see your fatherly concern."

He smirked at me. "You tripped over my _legs_."

"And if they weren't so freakin' long, I wouldn't have. Besides, I tripped because I'm dizzy and lost my balance."

"Whatever you say, darlin'," he said, continuing to smirk at me.

"Well, I'm going to the bathroom and then I'm going to try to find some food that won't make me puke my guts out," I said. "You can feel free to stop watching it on TV and actually come eat some with me, if you want."

He sat up and turned off my TV with the remote. "Sure."

I went to the bathroom and changed from my pajama pants into a pair of sleeping shorts. I also traded my T-shirt for a wife beater. I had been freezing that morning, but suddenly I was burning up. I hated being sick. After changing, Logan and I went down to the kitchen. Scott and Jean were there.

"I heard you were sick," Jean said. "How are you feeling?"

"Horrible," I said. "But I actually feel better than I did this morning."

"Well that's good."

"What's wrong?" Scott asked.

"I have a stomach virus."

"That's not fun."

"Tell me about it," I said, going to the refrigerator. "Now I have to find something to eat that won't make me sick again."

"Saltines and Ginger Ale always work for me," he said.

"That's gross. I hate Ginger Ale," I said.

"Sprite works, too," Jean said. "And you can eat toast; it shouldn't upset your stomach too much."

I gave her as much of a smile as I could muster with as terrible as I was feeling. "I'll try that, thanks."

She stood up with much effort from the stool from where she had been sitting. "Well I hate to seem rude, but I'm going to leave. The last thing I need right now is a stomach virus."

"Do you want me to go with you, baby?" I heard Scott whisper to her.

She gave him a quick kiss on the lips. "No, stay here and finish your lunch. I'm going to go lie down for a bit."

"Okay," he said. "I love you."

"I love you, too."

By the time Jean left the room, I was near the verge of vomiting again and it had nothing to do with my virus. But I thought that when she left and it was just Scott, Logan and me that I would be fine. Then Marie showed up and needed Logan to help her fix something that was wrong with her car. So that left a very medicated, vulnerable me along in a room with Scott. And that was _never_ a good combination.

"I'll wipe everything down with disinfectant wipes when I get done in here so Jean won't get sick," I said.

He smiled at me from where he was sitting at the island, finishing off his sandwich. "I can do it," he said. "You're sick, so I'll clean it up. You need to rest."

"I need to find some lunch. I haven't eaten anything since yesterday afternoon and the last thing I ate was cheesecake."

"That's not good," he said as he stood up and took his plate to the sink. "What do you want? I'll make you something."

"I can cook my own food," I said.

He kept smiling. "Yeah, but the less you touch, the less germs you spread," he said and I couldn't help but laugh. "Come on, let me make you lunch."

"Jean said I could have toast."

"All right, I'll make you some toast."

I moved away from the refrigerator, sat down at the island and watched Scott put bread into the toaster. Then he turned around and smiled again. "Ta da."

I laughed. "You have mad cooking skills, Scott," I said. "I'm quite jealous."

"I'll be teaching a class soon, you can feel free to join," he joked.

"Oh yeah, I'll be first in line," I said with a laugh, shaking my head. "Now what did your wife say I could drink instead of Ginger Ale? Which basically tastes like club soda, by the way. Or very flat Mountain Dew."

He shook his head and gave a small smile. "She said you could have Sprite. But I'm sure Hank was pushing Gatorade, huh?"

I nodded. "He made me drink about a gallon of it before I left the infirmary."

"So which do you want?"

"Gatorade, I guess. I don't want to piss off the good doctor."

His eyebrow raised in question. "Are you saying my wife's the bad doctor?" he teased.

"No, I'm not saying that," I said. "But I've never seen her in doctorial action."

"Doctorial action? Is that even a real word?"

"It is actually, yes. I picked it up in forensics."

"I'm sure you did." He laughed, taking an orange Gatorade from the refrigerator. "How much medicine does Hank have you on, by the way?"

"Not nearly enough," I said, accepting the bottled drink from him. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," he said as my toast popped up.

He took a plate from one of the cabinets above him and put the toast on it before taking out a knife and spreading a light layer of butter over both pieces and then he cut them into squares. I smiled as I watched him do it: He knew how I ate my toast.

"Do you miss studying forensics?" he asked, placing the plate, along with a paper napkin, in front of me.

"Yeah. I had had my heart set on it for years," I said. "And to think I was only three quarters away from being a scientist."

"You can still become one," he said, going to the freezer and pulling out a fudge pop.

"I'd have to be a different kind. Unless I suddenly get real thick skin and lean how to deal with murders in an unattached way," I said. "But Dr. Rivers doesn't sound too cool, so it doesn't really matter anyway."

He laughed as he sat down in the seat across from me. "So you're not going to become a scientist just because your name doesn't sound right?"

"Yeah," I said taking a bite of one of my toast squares. "Names are everything."

"Thanks for reminding me of that; Jean and I still don't have a name picked out for the baby."

"You know, Jayden is a _wonderful_ name," I said, laughing.

"Jayden's not _in_ any of our baby name books," he said, biting off the top of his fudge pop.

"That's because you only have books for girl's names. You would find it if you looked in one for boys."

He laughed. "It's a boy name?"

"This is like, the second time I've had this discussion in the last twenty-four hours," I said. "Yes, Jayden is a boy's name. My mother hated me _that_ much, apparently. Or she wanted a boy, I'm not real sure. But you work with kids, haven't you ever noticed that you've never met a girl with that name?"

"I'd never met _anyone_ with that name before you," he said.

"Really?"

He nodded. "Yeah," he said. "But it suits you."

I smiled. "Thank you."

"So if Rivers isn't a good doctor name, what about…De Luca?"

"Yeah, I could change my last name to De Luca and become one," I said sarcastically. "That'll work."

"Well if you married him…" he trailed off.

"Yeah, I don't think that Tony and I will be getting married any time soon."

"But eventually?"

"I don't know. Crazier things have happened, I'm sure."

"Do you like him?"

I shrugged as I took a sip of my Gatorade. "He's a nice guy and I really get along with him. But he lives in California and if we were to ever have a relationship, one of us would have to move for it to ever be realistic. I don't think he likes me enough to make the move here and I am _not_ moving back there."

"You hate it that much, huh?"

"Yeah," I said with a sigh. "I mean, I don't hate California. You've been to my old house; you saw how beautiful it was there."

"To be quite honest, I didn't pay too much attention to the scenery, I was a little distracted."

I paused a toast square by my mouth and looked at him, confused. "By what?"

He shoved his hair back off his forehead with his hand and smiled at me sheepishly. "You," he said.

"You were distracted by _me_? I was a dork."

He laughed. "You were fascinating."

"How?"

"I don't know. You just have something about you that grabs people's attentions."

"So does Logan. You don't find him fascinating, do you?"

"No." He shook his head. "But you have what he has plus a…warmth about you," he said. "You made me feel instantly comfortable the moment I saw you."

I smiled. "Funny because the first time I saw you, you made my heart stop."

"I do tend to have that effect on people," he joked.

"Well it's good to see you're modest about it at least," I said, continuing to smile at him.

"You're a special person, Jayden. And you're going to find someone who really deserves you," he said. "Because if you bring home some jerk, I'll have to have a talk with him and explain that I can blast a hole through a moment, one through his head wouldn't be too hard."

"That's lovely," I joked, finally eating a piece of my toast.

"I'm being serious, I want you to find someone who _really_ loves you," he said. "Because you're too good of a person to be with someone doesn't."

I felt my cheeks blush and my heart ache slightly. "Thank you," I said.

We both fell silent for a few minutes as we ate. My stomach was still slightly queasy, but I knew I would feel better when I got some food on it. But I couldn't keep something out of my mind, no matter how much I tried keeping my attention on my stomach or food.

"Scott," I started slightly timid, "what do you think would have happened to us had Jean _not_ come back?"

He placed the stick from the fudge pop he had just finished on its wrapper that was lying on the table. "I don't know," he said. "I think we could have made it work."

"But for how long? A few weeks, a month or two?"

He paused for a moment as he appeared to be thinking. "No, I think for a _very_ long time," he said, nodding. "Relationships need work, we both know that and we also know that over the past six months we've worked hard to keep our relationship together. And it's been worth it for me. But you need more than just a physical attraction with someone, or it can't last. I'm not saying that I'm not attracted to you physically; you're one of the most beautiful girls I've ever seen. But…it's something deeper. And we have that."

"My dad always used to say that in order to be married and be happy, you have to be best friends with the person you're married to," I said, then gave a small laugh. "Well, we saw how that worked out for him and my mom, so maybe he was wrong."

He gave me a short smile. "No, he wasn't wrong. Sometimes things just don't work out." He reached out his hand and put it on top of mine. "How much meds does Hank have you on, exactly?"

I smacked his hand away as he laughed. "Shut up, you jerk," I said. "I try being open and you make fun of me. That's real sweet, Slim."

"I'm not making fun of you," he said. "I'm just joking around."

I shook my head and did my best not to smile at him, but I couldn't help it. He was sitting across from me and grinning, showing his dimples and making my heart flutter. No matter what I thought about my parents' marriage ending, about Scott being with Jean again, or even my own non-existing love life, there was nothing as far as I could see that could keep me from being friends with Scott. Despite it all, he was my friend and I was happy that _nothing_ had changed that.


	8. Brotherly Love

Disclaimer: I don't own the rights to Marvel or X-Men. I'm feeling a little sad typing this all up because I know this is the last of the Jayden series. She's been a pretty big part of my life for the last two years, so I'm hoping ya'll are enjoying it so far. And I hope ya'll enjoy this chapter!

* * *

  


July came quickly and soon I found myself in California for my mother's wedding. I didn't _want_ to go and once I got there, I _really_ wished I hadn't gone.

My mom and her fiancé, who I had only met twice so far, had decided to have a party before their wedding. They had rented out the arm museum in town and had invited around two hundred and fifty of their 'closest' friends. So I was wandering around the museum, doing my best to be polite to everyone that spoke to me. Although I was having a hard doing so considering the fact that they all had something to say about my hair, my tattoo and my dress. The majority of which was pretty negative. Actually, they were almost _all_ negative. But I forced the best smile I could and excused myself from the conversation.

I was hiding in corner, attempting to keep myself away from one of Mike's, my mom's fiancé, creepy friends. He had been following me around for a good half hour, trying to make conversation about the hors d'oeuvres that waiters were bringing through the museum.

I had one of the few non-alcoholic drinks that was being served because the waiters knew my age and were keeping up with me, and I was standing in front of a painting. It was 'The Cat's Paw' by Edwin Landseer and I had seen it dozens of times, so I found nothing new or interesting about it. But no one else had congregated around it yet and so I thought feigning interest in it was the best way to get away from the other guests for a while.

And then I felt someone coming up behind me.

"I never understood this painting; why is there a monkey in the house?" I looked up and saw Tony De Luca standing beside me, grinning. "Hi."

"Why are _you_ here?" I asked, confused.

"Free food. Isn't that why everyone's here?" he said, continuing to grin.

"What?" I said, continuing to be confused.

"I'm here for a wedding party," he said. "My dad's getting re-married."

I shook my head. "I thought the building was only being rented for one party, though?"

"It is," he said. "Why?"

"Because my mom has it rented out for her wedding party. She's getting re-married, too."

Now it was his turn to look confused. "No…no, that's not possible. My dad rented this building out. I was there when he called to make sure no one else had it."

"And I know that I'm here because my mother is having a party here and then getting married outside in like, two hours. I didn't fly from New York to California for nothing."

"Then the only other option would be that our parents are getting married to each other and that's not possible."

"Why not?"

"Have you met your mother's fiancé?"

"Yeah."

"Is his last name De Luca?"

"I don't know, he never told me his last name. Have you met your father's?"

"Yeah and her last name isn't Rivers," he said, "It's Fisher."

I shook my head. "Crap," I muttered.

"What?"

"That's my _mother's_ last name. She went back to her maiden name when she and my dad divorced," I said. "Our parents _are_ getting married."

"No," he said, "they can't do that. Because then you would be my step-sister and…I don't want you as a sister."

"Well maybe I don't want you as a brother."

He let out a sigh. "No, I'm not saying I don't want you as a sister because I don't like you, I don't want you as a sister because I'm _attracted_ to you," he explained. "And that's very, _very_ wrong."

"Yes it is," I said. "But more than that, why weren't we told about this?"

"That's exactly what I would like to know," he said. "I mean, you told your mother about me, right?"

"No."

"Really? Why not?"

I shrugged. "We don't really talk much anymore and when we do it's not about you," I said. "Did you tell your dad about me?"

"Well…no."

"So neither of them even _knew _about us?"

"I guess not."

"Okay, but that still doesn't excuse the fact that this is really freakin' creepy."

"What do you want me to do about it?"

"I don't know, just…stop them, or something."

"How?"

"You work for the FBI, I'm sure you have connections somewhere that can come up with a valid excuse to keep them from getting married."

"Yeah, I actually don't work for the FBI anymore. And even if I did, there's no connection I have that could legally stop them from getting married."

"Why aren't you with the FBI anymore?"

"I decided I wanted to do more field work instead of profiling analysis."

"So what are you doing?"

"Nothing right now. But I'm actually moving to New York later this month."

"Why?"

"Before I started working for the FBI, I worked as a detective here. So I applied for a job at a precinct out there and they agreed to take me on for a while."

"But why New York?"

"I have a friend who's a detective there. We went through training together. He's the one who told me about the open position they had," he said. "And I thought it would be a nice change."

"It's a pretty big one, don't you think?"

He grinned once again. "Yeah, but I would think you would understand needing change. I think every time I see you, you have different hair. Even you didn't keep your name the same, I would worry that you were in the Witness Protection Program."

"I'm a girl; I'm allowed to change my hair as often as I want. I don't need a reason and you don't have to like it."

"I didn't say I didn't like it. You have a Mariska Hargitay thing going on, it's nice."

I laughed. "Yeah, if I'm Mariska Hargitay, where's my Christopher Meloni?"

"Tracking down pedophiles," he said with a wink.

"Sounds about right," I said and looked away from him and back to the painting that was on the wall in front of us.

I had always hated the painting, really. My dad and I would go to that very same art museum every year for Father's Day and instead of being serious and studious about the art, we always made fun of it. It was our traditions. One that had been completely dashed since I had moved away. But looked at it, I thought of him and realized that I genuinely missed him.

"So you're moving to New York, eh?" I said, finishing off what little drink was left in my glass.

"Yeah," he said, showing his hands into the pockets of his suit pants. "I was going to call and tell you when I got there. I guess I won't have to now."

"Why are you moving there?" I asked.

"I told you; it's a nice change."

I looked over at him and felt in my gut that he was lying. Nothing on the surface gave it away, he was a good liar, but I knew better than to accept something just because someone was good at lying about it. "But why are you _really_ moving there?"

He looked down at me, into my eyes. "Are you reading my mind?" he asked, his voice hushed.

I shook my head. "No, I don't know how."

"Am I that obvious to read then?"

I shrugged. "I don't know. All I do know is that you're not telling the whole truth," I said. "So why are you moving to New York, Mr. De Luca?"

"I thought…" He let out a bit of a nervous laugh and smiled at me. "I thought it would be nice to be closer to you."

"You're moving to New York for _me_?"

"Well no, I'm moving because I was offered a job there," he said, his nervous smile still on his face. "But I _accepted_ it because of you, yeah."

I smiled shyly and blushed slightly. "That's very flattering."

"Well now that you're going to be my sister, it's a little more creepy than flattering."

"Yeah, that's true," I said as I saw my mom and Mike walking our way. I turned towards them and saw Tony do the same from the corner of my eye. "So let's go congratulate our parents."

Together we walked over to the two of them. They were practically glowing. And I wanted to vomit. "So you've finally met Tony," Mike said to me, beaming.

"Dad, we've known each other for a while," Tony said and I could feel the confusion starting.

"What do you mean?"

"We knew each other when we were younger. She was friends with Matt Swanson's sister," he explained. "And last year at Chris and Karen's wedding we saw each other again and exchanged phone numbers. We've been talking to each other for almost a year now."

"Excuse me?" my mother said.

"We've gone out on _dates_," I said.

"Well, we've actually only been out on one, but I _was_ planning on asking you out again once I got to New York," Tony corrected.

"I was counting the time at the bar in Canada, though."

"Yeah, but that wasn't really a date. That was business. The only _real_ date was when we were in New York."

"Is that why you're moving there?" Mike asked.

"No, it's not the _reason_," Tony said, "but it's a nice perk."

"Yeah, it was a perk _before_ I was going to be your sister."

"That's true."

"You're not going to be his real sister," my mother said.

"No, but it's still creepy."

"I agree," Tony said.

"How is that this is the first time we've found out about this, anyway?"

My mom and Mike exchanged looks. "We didn't realize," he said. "But you can still be friends, no?"

"No, because we're attracted to each other. Are we the only two that sees a problem?"

"Uh, mi scusi, but _what_ problem? Tony's a nice looking boy, you're a bella donna, no problem, si?"

I shook my head. "I don't…what's a bella donna?" I asked.

"It's Italian for 'beautiful lady'," Tony explained.

"Oh, I quite like that," I said.

"Yeah, it's great, my father's flirting with you," Tony said. "It doesn't matter how beautiful she is dad, I'm going to be her brother and that's very wrong."

"We didn't know about you two or Terry and I would have talked to you about it," Mike said, his Italian accent thick. "We didn't mean to keep this a secret from you."

"Right," I said, placing my empty glass on a tray as a waiter passed by. "I'm sure we all would have had a grand time going out to eat and discussing our mutual admiration for one another, however that never happened because I didn't know my mom was getting married until three weeks ago, I didn't meet you until yesterday and I only found out your last name because Tony and I, being the smart and cunning cookies that we are, realized that if both of our parents are having a wedding party in a building rented to only _one_ couple, our parents must be marrying each _other_."

"Jayden, mind your manners, there's no need to be rude to Mike," my mom said.

"No, it's fine," he said. "She's feisty, I like it."

"She doesn't get it from me," she said.

"No, I get it from my father."

"Not Paul."

"My _othe_r father."

"How many have you had?" Mike asked with a laugh.

"Two. Her ex-husband and my biological father."

"Paul Rivers isn't your father?"

I looked at my mother and I felt a wave of guilt roll off her. "No, he adopted me," I said, continuing to keep my eyes on my mother.

"Terry didn't tell me that," he said.

"What _did_ she tell you about me?"

"She said that you were very smart and beautiful, that you were a very sweet girl." He shook his head. "That's it."

I looked over to him. "That's it? That's all she told you?"

He shrugged. "She said that you were having some problems and staying in New York until you could get them sorted out."

"Problems? I don't _have_ any problems. I'm staying in New York because I _live_ there. I have for the past year and a half and it's not going to change anytime soon."

"Jayden, I'm sorry. Please don't take this the wrong way," my mother said, trying to calm me.

"How am I supposed to take it? Even my _real_ mother told her husband about me, and that woman hated me. I mean a real wish I was dead kind of hate. She didn't have to tell him about me, he never would have known, but she did."

"It was before we talked last month. I don't even know you anymore, how am I supposed to tell other people about you?"

"I don't know, but was all you could think of to say about me was that I was sweet but you shipped me off to the other side of the country because I'm having 'problems'?"

"It wasn't like that. I just didn't know what else to say."

"How about the basics? Like hey, she's adopted?"

"Why do you feel like I need to tell everyone that? As far as I'm concerned, you _are_ my daughter."

"Why do you feel like you need to tell people I have problems? I don't," I said, looking up to Mike. "Okay, so yeah, I might have a few, but I'm living in New York with my dad, my _real_ dad, not Paul Rivers, not because I have problems. As for the smart and beautiful thing, that's really probably up to interpretation, and as for being sweet…I can be, I guess, but generally, I'm not, no."

"Jayden, please don't do this right now," my mother said as a group of people were walking towards her and Mike.

"Whatever," I said. "I'm going to go outside and cool down. I don't want to ruin your big day."

I turned and left the two of them to greet their guests. Tony didn't wait too long before following me. But he didn't try to stop me. He let me leave the building through a series of winding rooms until I was out on the balcony. There were a few people there, setting up the area for the wedding ceremony that was supposed to take place in less than two hours.

"How can you walk that fast in those shoes?" Tony asked once he had allowed himself to catch up with me.

"I don't know, how do you walk that fast in your shoes?"

"Very well, thank you. But I'm not balancing on a skinny little four inch heel, either."

I stopped by the railing of the balcony that over looked the city below and looked down at my high heels. "I'm used to wearing them. They're not a problem."

"Well they're very nice," he said. "They go very well with you dress."

I couldn't help but smile slightly. "Do you spend a lot of time thinking about how high heels go with dresses?" I asked with a small laugh.

"Only when they're on you. But I have a feeling that you could wear a plastic bag and look beautiful."

"What about a paper bag?"

"Absolutely not," he joked, smiling. "But honestly, you look gorgeous, Miss Rivers."

I was wearing a yellow strapless dress that had a thin brown belt under the bust. My shoes were the same brown as my dress. I had woken up late that morning, being tired from jetlag, and hadn't had a lot of time to do my makeup. So I cheated and didn't wear much, but put on some red lipstick to match the red earrings I was wearing.

"You know, I've gotten a lot of comments on my outfit today, and _none_ of them have been positive, so thank you."

"Really? Because that is a _very_ hot dress."

I felt my cheeks flush hot and my anger start to ebb. "I'm a little worried it's going to fall off while I'm walking down the aisle."

"If it does, I promise I will _not_ laugh," he said. "As a matter of a fact, I will personally help you pull it back up and hold it there to make sure it doesn't fall back down."

I laughed. "You're such a gentleman, Tony."

He smiled. "I'm just trying to make you laugh. That conversation with your mom was a little heated."

"Yeah, I know, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to come off as rude in front of your dad. I just got a little upset."

"I can understand that, but what I don't understand is why you felt like it was important for her to tell him that you were adopted."

I leaned back against the railing and crossed my arms over my chest. "I honestly don't know. I guess I just needed something to be pissed about."

"Okay, we both know that's not true," he said. "So why?"

I let out a sigh. "Being adopted is who I am, it's my identity."

"No, it's _part_ of who you are. If I was telling someone about you and forgot to mention that you have brown hair or hazel eyes, would that upset you?"

"No, because that's how I look, not who I am."

"And how does being adopted define you? What about that makes you who you are?"

"You're not adopted, you don't understand."

"No, you're right, I don't. But I didn't even know that you were until last year and I knew you for two years, or something, when we were younger. When I think of you, I don't _think_ of that. I think about how smart or funny you are, or how much I love the sound of your voice and the way you laugh. I think about how you can tell when you're genuinely smiling, because your eyes light up. _That's_ what I think about, not you being adopted."

I felt myself blush again. Partly out of flattery and partly out of shame. I had never heard anyone speak about me like that before. But I also knew that what he was trying to say was true; I had over reacted about my mother not telling Mike that she wasn't my real mother. For nearly the past two years, I had felt like she didn't love me like a real daughter, like if I didn't fit into this perfect mold she had for me, then she didn't want me. But by her not telling him I was adopted, she was claiming me, no excuses. And still I got mad at her for it.

I looked over my shoulder and looked at the sun as it was hanging in the sky and let out a deep sigh.

Maybe my problem wasn't with my mother, maybe it never had been. As I stood there on the balcony with Tony, I thought that _maybe_ the problem was with me.

* * *

"How many of those have you drank?" Tony asked as I grabbed another glass of sparkling white grape juice off a platter a waiter was trotting by.

"Four," I said. "But it doesn't matter because there's no alcohol in it."

"No, but you keep running off to the bathroom, so that has to be a bit of a sign to slow down."

The wedding had come and gone and we were all at the reception. I had apologized to my mother, we had made up and I did my best to behave myself during the ceremony. I was my mother's only maid of honor and Tony was his father's best man because his brother Chris couldn't be at the actual wedding. And after seeing us standing and talking together, quite a few of the wedding attendees had assumed that Tony and I were dating. When asked about it, neither one of us denied it. They were going to think what they wanted no matter what we said, so there was no point in wasting our time telling them the truth. But it did make it a lot more interesting to see other people's reactions to our being together. It probably didn't help that Tony kept winking at and touching me and whispering things in my ear, even though it was mostly just movie lines.

"Actually, would you do me a big favor?" I asked Tony. "Grab me one of those glasses with like, wine or something in it and give it to me?"

"No. You're underage and that's illegal."

"Oh come on."

"I'm a federal agent and I am not aiding in the delinquency of a minor."

I rolled my eyes. "You're not a federal agent anymore, so you can't hide behind that crap," I said. "Besides, don't you want to get me absolutely drunk and take advantage of me?"

He laughed. "No, I don't. But thank you for the offer," he said, giving me a wink.

"Why not?"

"Because you're not serious. You just want me to get you drunk. But getting drunk isn't fun. You'll wake up tomorrow with a horrible headache and puking your guts out. And let me just tell you that Italian food does _not_ taste good coming back up, okay? The only thing worse is Mexican food, but since this is an Italian wedding, we don't have that."

"Okay, that's just disgusting, dude."

"Tell me about it. Have you ever _had_ regurgitated chicken fajita nachos? The chicken gets stuck in your teeth coming back up. It's bad."

"Well thanks for telling me about it," I said sarcastically. "Now _I'm_ going to vomit."

"Just watch out for the chicken."

"Shut up."

"What? I'm doing the brotherly thing by looking out for you," he said with a smile.

"You're _not_ my brother."

"I am in a very 'Cruel Intentions' kind of way."

"What are you talking about?"

"You've never seen 'Cruel Intentions'?" I shook my head. "It's a movie with Sarah Michelle Gellar and Ryan Philipe where they're sex crazed, drug addicted teenage step-siblings. It's filled with bad acting, bad dialog, and a bad plot."

"And our relationship is like that…_how_?"

"Well, it's not. But they're attracted to each other."

"So were Greg and Marcia Brady, why couldn't you have used them as an example? Why did you compare us to drug addicted teenagers?"

"You don't think the Brady's were doing drugs? Have you ever seen the clothes they wore?"

I shook my head but couldn't keep myself from smiling. And then I saw Tony's brother Chris and his wife, one of my old 'friends' Karen, making their way towards us and my smile faded.

"Oh my goodness, Jayden! Look at you!" Karen said, her voice like nails on a chalkboard. "You're hair is _so_ short."

"Yeah, it is," I said, forcing a smile. I hated comments that weren't compliments or insults and there was no way to respond to them but with the obvious.

"I think I might like it."

"Okay…thanks."

"What do you think, baby?" she asked Chris. "Do you like it?"

"Yeah, it's nice," he said, giving me a polite smile. But I could tell he didn't care and I found that more entertaining.

"So can you believe we're like, sisters in law now?"

"I don't think that extends to step-siblings, but okay, yeah," I said and I heard Tony stifle a laugh.

"What are you doing now? You have to tell me everything."

"Well I'm still living in New York -"

"Oh my gosh, yeah, I totally forgot about that. Do you absolutely love it? I bet the shopping's great. Don't they have like, tons of cheap street vendors and stuff?"

"I think you're thinking of New York _City_. I actually live in Westchester, it's about an hour away and there's really not a lot of people selling things on the street there."

"What about a job? Are you working or anything?"

"Yeah, I'm working at a bookstore and café, I make coffee."

"Well I'm working for Chris's uncle John. I'm a receptionist."

"You work for Dr. Lewis?"

"Yeah, do you know him?"

I nodded. "He was a friend of my parents. He's a good guy."

I could feel the embarrassment rolling off Chris. He loved his wire, but once the puppy love wore off, he had realized some of the things she did and said weren't really cute, they were just annoying.

Tony, on the other hand, was thoroughly enjoying listening to our conversation. From what I could grasp of the few snippets of thoughts that were passing through my head, I gathered that Chris had been ragging Tony about getting married and settling down. And from how Tony was smirking at Chris, I didn't have to hear what he was thinking to know what he was so humored by.

"Oh, I didn't tell you, we're going to have a baby!" Karen said excitedly.

I was taking a sip of my grape juice when she said this and the news was enough to make me choke on the drink out surprise. "_You're_ having a baby?"

"Yeah, isn't that super exciting? I'm like, totally ready to be a mom."

"That's…wow," I said, shaking my head and forcing my best smile. I was speechless. "Congratulations."

I way praying for a change of subject so that I wouldn't have to pretend to be excited anymore, when I heard my cell phone ring. I had stashed it in a small clutch I had that was hanging from my wrist in case of any emergencies. I didn't care who it was, I was just thankful for the distraction.

"Sorry, it's my phone. Excuse me," I said as I pulled it out. The caller ID said it was from the school. "Hello?"

"So how goes the weddin'?" Marie asked. Her once annoying southern drawl was now welcoming.

"It's going pretty well," I said. "Is everything okay?"

"Yeah, it's fine. I was just gonna ask you for a favor."

"What's that?"

"Can I borrow a dress from you for tonight? I promise I won't ruin it or anything. I'll take real good care of it."

"What's tonight?" I asked, having to remind myself that they were three hours behind me.

"Logan asked if I would help him pick out a birthday present for you while you're gone and I made him a deal."

"Which was what?"

"That I would help him if he took me out to eat somewhere kind'a nice."

"What? You don't like Sugar's Barbeque?" I joked.

"I like it. I just want something different."

"All right, yeah, you can borrow a dress. And tell Logan if he's still stuck on a present he can buy me something nice for my car."

"You don't have a car yet, though, do you?"

"No, Scott's going to help me pick one out when I get back. But, you know, he can still get me something for it."

She laughed. "Okay."

"And tell him I love him and I'll call him tomorrow before I leave."

"Well you can tell him, he's standin' right here."

I heard the phone being passed around and then Logan's voice came through. "Hey, kid," he said. "How you holdin' up?"

"I'm okay," I said. "We're just waiting to eat."

"Who's 'we'?"

"You know, the guests," I said as Tony let out a cough.

"Who was that?"

"Who was what?"

"Who just coughed?"

"I don't…I don't know what you're talking about, I didn't hear anyone…"

"Jayden?"

"Yeah?"

"Who's there with you?"

"It's well, it's, you know, it's just me and uh…Tony."

"Tony? That Italian kid? What's he doin' there?"

"It's really quite funny, actually. See, my mom just married his dad. Funny, huh?"

"Did you know that when you decided to go?" he asked, his voice sounding deep and intimidating.

"No sir, I didn't."

"Did _he_?"

"No. Neither of us knew until we got here."

There was a moment of silence on the other end that made me sweat. Logan generally didn't intimidate me because when I was with him, I knew what he was feeling. But on the phone where my powers didn't work, his silence slightly scared me.

"So he's what, your step-brother now?"

"Technically, yes, that's how it works."

Another small stretch of silence before I heard him start laughing. "That's a good one. I couldn't've planned that better myself."

"What are you talking about?"

"Me and you both know you ain't gonna date somebody that's gonna be considered your brother in _any _kind'a way," he said, letting out another chuckle.

"You're _such_ a jackass, Logan."

"Call me whatever you want darlin', it ain't gonna change the fact that you've kissed your brother."

"He is _not_ my brother!" I snapped and saw a few people turn to look at me.

"Hey, you want a birthday present?"

"Yeah."

"Then you'd better be nice to me."

"Fine. Go shopping. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Yeah, be careful."

"Whatever."

"And don't kiss your brother."

"I hate you."

"No you don't," he said. "Bye darlin'."

"Bye." I hung up my phone and stuck it back in my clutch, letting out a deep sigh.

"Was that Logan?" Tony asked.

"Yeah."

"Is he upset that I'm here."

"No," I said. "He thinks it's great that our parents are married now."

"Why?"

I looked up at him. "Because he thinks it's _funny_ that I've kissed my step-brother."

"Well that happened _before_ any of this, so I don't know that it counts" he said.

"Wait, you've _kissed_ Tony?" Karen asked.

"It was once," he said.

"And it wasn't a big deal," I added.

"Well it was kind of a big deal," Tony said, looking at me.

"It was in a bar and it wasn't really a kiss, it was just like…a peck."

"But you said you weren't dating anyone, Tony," Karen said. "I can't believe it. This is amazing! Wouldn't it be so awesome if you two got married? Then we really would be sisters."

"Yeah, I don't think that's going to happen," I said.

"Why not?" she asked. "You would be _so_ cute together."

"Yeah, why not?" Tony asked.

"Oh come on, do you want to marry me? I'm nineteen, I work at a coffee shop, I snore, I can't cook and I have a family that would drive Jerry Springer mad. Do you _really_ want to be a part of that?"

"Your family isn't that bad. You parents are awesome. I just saw your dad, Mr. Rivers, the other day at the park. He's so sweet," Karen said.

"I'm talking about my _other_ family, the one I have in New York."

"I didn't know you had a family there," Chris said. "The way Terry talked, all of your family's from here in California, even your father's."

"I consider the people I live with my family," I said, not mentioning the fact that Logan actually _was_ my family. "I'm curious, though, when did you speak to my mother?"

"Karen and I went out to eat with her and dad a few times, so I'm not exactly sure when we spoke about it."

"You _knew_ Terry was Jayden's mom?" Tony asked.

"Yeah. Didn't you?"

"No. I just found out a few hours ago," Tony said as they were announcing that it was time to eat.

"We're going to go find our table, but I think we're all seated together, so we'll see you in a little while," Chris said, taking Karen by the hand and leading her away.

"I'm going to go to the bathroom," I said to Tony. "You can go ahead and go with them, if you want."

He gave me a smile. "I'll wait for you."

"That's really not necessary, I'll be quite fine. I'll meet you over there."

He laughed. "No, you're planning to sneak out."

"I am not." He gave me a skeptical look. "Okay, so maybe I was. Why does it matter?"

He kept smiling at me. "We're about to eat. I know most girls your age don't actually do much of that, but it's Italian food, it's the best stuff in the world, you can't pass that up."

"You obviously don't know me too well, Mr. De Luca, because I'm not one of those skinny little girls that doesn't eat. I can put away quite a bit," I said. "But maybe I would rather go back to my hotel and order room service. At least that way I could put on my pajamas."

"Why would you ever want to take that dress off? It's honestly one of the best dresses I've ever seen," he said. "Although it probably doesn't hurt that you're the one wearing it."

I smiled despite myself. "Thank you."

"You can go to the bathroom now if you want. But don't try sneaking out; I'll find you."

I cocked my eyebrow at him. "That sounds slightly…creepy," I said with a laugh.

He laughed too. "Sorry, that's not how I meant it." He stepped closer to me and looked down in my eyes. "I know this isn't exactly what you had been expecting when you decide to come out here, but just _try_ to enjoy yourself, okay?"

"I'm trying."

"No you're not. You want to be miserable. I just don't know why," he said. "This is a party, so have some fun."

I let out a sigh. "I don't want to be here, I miss my family. I'm not used to being away from them for this long," I said. "I don't like the people here; I don't even really _know_ these people."

"No, but your mom does and my dad does and that's what this is about. That's why we're here. For them," he said. "Don't you think I'd rather be somewhere else besides here? I would like to be at home in my pajamas, too and watching a ballgame. But I'm here because I love my dad and I'm happy for him because he's finally happy again."

"Maybe we can both leave, grab our pajamas and watch the ballgame together, eh?"

He smiled. "That's very, _very_ tempting, but maybe another time," he said. "Right now we're going to sit down and eat. I know you don't like my brother but -"

"Hey, I don't mind Chris," I said, cutting him off mid sentence. "I don't like Karen."

"I thought you were friends with her?"

"No, my mother wanted me to be, but I never liked her."

"But you were in her wedding."

"Yeah, I know, but I sort of owed her from something she did for me a long time ago," I said, shaking my head. "I just can't believe she's actually pregnant; some people should just never reproduce."

He laughed. "She's harmless."

"Yeah, she's just dumb as a sack of rocks," I said. "Hopefully the kid will take after your brother. But at least it'll be cute, whether it knows which way is up and down or not."

"Well I was going to ask you to come with me tonight to their house after the wedding. We're going to have another party there. But I guess you don't want to do that, huh?"

"I wouldn't mind that. But I actually have something I need to do after I leave. Thank you, though."

"You're welcome, Miss Rivers," he said with a smile. "I'll let you go to the restroom now. I'll see you at our table."

"Okay," I said and watched as he walked away.

I really didn't want to be there. As much as I loved California, New York was my home and I missed it. But more than anything, being there forced me to really examine my life and look at what I had done with it. Sure, I had changed a lot and most of them were _good _changes. But I realized that there were a lot of things that I had changed without needing to. I was starting to see how my changes had affected the people I had left behind. And I realized there were a lot of things I needed to take care of while I was there. There were a lot of people I needed to apologize to, and all I could do was hope that they would forgive me.

* * *

At seven o'clock on a Saturday night, I found myself standing outside of a strange apartment, ringing the doorbell. After three rings, I began to think that no one was there and turned around to leave.

"Can I help you?" I heard as the door opened. I turned around and saw my dad standing in his doorway. He smiled at me. "Jayden, what are you doing here?"

I walked back towards him. "I'm in town; I thought I'd stop by and see you."

"Are you here for Terry's wedding?"

I nodded. "Yeah. How did you know about it?"

"She told me. She said you might be there. I wasn't expecting you to come see me, though."

I shrugged. "I haven't seen you in a while. I missed you."

"Well come here and give me a hug then," he said.

I wrapped my arms around his neck and hugged him. "How have you been doing?"

"I've been good pumpkin, how are you?"

"I'm good," I said, continuing to hug him tightly. "I really missed you, daddy."

"I missed you too, sweet pea. Now come on and let me look at you." I let go of him and followed him into his apartment. "You've cut your hair," he said. "I can't believe how short it is."

"Is that good or bad?"

He smiled at me. "I think it's good. I really like it," he said. "When did you cut it?"

"The beginning of the year. I was ready for something different."

"I never would have thought about you with short hair, you always kept it so long. But you wear it very well."

"Thank you."

"And I love your shirt."

After the wedding, I went back to my hotel room to change. I had pulled on a pair of blue jeans and the Rolling Stones T-shirt that Scott had given me. The reason why I had listened to the Stone at all growing up had been because of my dad. My mother didn't like me listening to rock much when I was younger, but he would sneak it in and let me listen to it while she was gone.

"Thanks. Scott Summers gave it to me."

"Scott Summers…now he's the one you have a crush on, right?"

"How do you know that?"

He smiled. "Baby, I know you pretty well. When he came that day to invite you to live at the school and stayed for dinner, I saw how you looked at him."

"Does _everyone_ know I have a crush on him?"

"Did your mother say the same thing?"

"Yeah," I said. "And so has everyone at the school."

"He doesn't know, does he?"

I let out a sigh. "Yeah, he does."

"Are you okay with that?"

I shrugged. "We've talked about it and we're still friends, so that's good. But he's married now and they're going to have a baby in a few months. So that makes it a little bit harder."

"I'm sorry, pumpkin," he said, then motioned to his couch. "Why don't we sit down and talk about it."

"Okay," I said, following him to his couch. I kicked off my flip-flops before sitting down beside him.

"So who is this woman he married?"

"Her name's Jean, she's a doctor and she's absolutely gorgeous."

"Well so are you."

I smiled. "You have to say that; you're my dad."

He shook his head. "No, I don't have to say it. I do because it's true," he said. "Now tell me what else you've been doing."

"I have a job."

"Doing what?"

"Making coffee. It's not like a huge important job or anything, but I do make a mean Java Mocha Freezer."

He laughed. "Good for you."

"And I got my drivers license this month. I got them this week, actually."

"I'm so proud of you, sweeties."

"Thanks."

"And how does Logan feel about all of this?"

"He's happy. Well, he's not too happy about my job, he thinks I'm too young to work. But he's proud of me."

"Well I can agree with him on that; you are too young to work," he said. "What about school, are you still doing forensic science?"

"No, I quit."

"Why?"

"We had to do a class where we had to look at pictures from a double homicide. One of the victims was a four year old girl." I shook my head. "I knew it would only get worse, they were trying to break us in slowly, and I couldn't deal with that."

"That's because you have a big heart."

"Well, I don't know about that," I said. "I also quit because I had been suspended twice for fighting."

"You got into fights?"

"Yeah."

"With other girls?"

"No sir, they were all boys."

"Boys were fighting with you? Did you sue them?"

"No, we didn't."

"Did _you_ start the fights?"

"No sir, I didn't. They did."

"Then why didn't you sue?"

"Because I ended up sending them all to the hospital. I mean, they weren't serious injuries, or anything, but I _did_ end up injuring them quite a bit."

"How many of them were there?"

"The first fight there was two, and I only fought with them because one of the boys threw a fifteen pound medicine ball at my head and called me a freak. The second fight there were four guys, but that one was totally self defense. I never started _any_ of them."

"You fought four boys all by yourself and sent them all to the hospital?"

"Yes sir," I said a little ashamedly.

"Well what in the world have they been feeding you out there, cupcake? Steroid filled protein shakes? I don't think even I could do that and I used to get in quite a few scraps when I was young," he said with a laugh. "What does Logan think about all of that?"

"He was the one who taught me how to take care of myself, so he was pretty proud," I said. "But he was really upset that they had tried hurting me."

"I know how he feels. I'm pretty upset that someone was trying to hurt my baby girl, too," he said. "Although you're not much of a baby anymore, are you?"

"I can still be yours," I said, pulling my feet up onto the couch.

He smiled at me. "I know. And you always will be," he said. He glanced down at my feet and looked a bit concerned. "What happened to your foot, sweetie?"

My left foot was slightly swollen and looking none too pretty. "It's from where I've been wearing high heels all day. Ever since I sprained it a couple of times last year, it's been a little jacked up."

"How did you sprain it?"

"The first time I twisted it while I was training with Logan."

"Training for what?"

"Fighting. It was a self defense class," I lied. I had actually twisted it jumping off a building during a session in a Danger Room.

"Well, self injuries aside, the classes must be working if you sent six boys to the hospital," he said. "The second sprain didn't happen during one of those fights, did it?"

"No sir, I was actually by the pool at home and was struck by lightening. When I fell into the pool, I rolled my ankle somehow and sprained it again."

"You were hit by _lightening_?"

"Yeah."

"Why didn't you ever tell your mother or me?"

"It wasn't that big of a deal, really. I was a little sore and had some hearing loss for a while, but I was okay. It just knocked me out pretty hard."

"How did you get out of the pool if you were unconscious?"

"Scott pulled me out."

"Mr. Summers?"

I nodded. "Yeah. He said my heart had stopped and I wasn't breathing, so he had to give me CPR. Hank, Dr. McCoy, said I was lucky I didn't have at least a couple of broken ribs from how hard Scott was pumping my chest. I did have a pretty bad bruise, though."

"That sounds like a pretty big deal to me, Jayden. I can't believe you didn't tell either of us."

I shrugged. "It was a long time ago, I didn't think about it."

"You said it was last year, that wasn't that long ago."

"Okay, maybe it just felt like it to me then."

"I know you were upset when you found out that we were getting a divorce, but that shouldn't have stopped you from thinking that we care about you."

"Actually, that happened _before_ I found out that you were getting a divorce."

"And you still didn't tell us? Jayden, you could have _died_."

"Yeah, I know daddy, believe me, I thought a _lot_ about that. And for the longest time I was _terrified_ of dying. I think that was part of the reason I didn't want to talk about it. It wasn't just you and mom; I didn't want to talk to _anyone_ about it. The idea of death sent me into a full blown panic attack."

"But it doesn't now?" he asked. I shook my head. "Why not?"

I let out a sigh. "I just realized that we all have to die at some point. I don't have a choice in that. But I thought I do have a choice in how I live," I said. "I know that sounds a bit cheesy, or whatever, but when I faced my fear head on, I found out that I was a lot stronger than I realized."

"Well I could have told you that. You didn't have to go drowning yourself to find out."

I laughed. "You've always been able to see the good things about me that I never could," I said. "Thank you for that."

He smiled at me and patted my knee. "You never have to thank me for that, baby."

"Dad…" I started timidly, not quite sure what to say, "I'm _really_ sorry for everything I did. I know I hurt you and mom a lot, I never meant to do that, I swear, and I'm sorry."

"You know, it takes a very big person to apologize and I really appreciate that, Jayden."

"Yeah, I'm such a big girl," I said jokingly with a laugh.

But despite the laugher and smile I had on the outside, on the inside I wanted to cry. I hated so much that I had hurt the people who had loved me nearly my whole life. I kept myself at a distance from them, fearing that they would leave and hurt me like my real mother had done to me. And that's exactly what I had done to them.

So as much as I wanted to cry because of how sorry I was that I had hurt them, I couldn't. I was a big girl and big girls didn't cry.


	9. How To Save a Life

Disclaimer: I don't own the rights to X-Men or Marvel. But I did get to see 'Ironman' today and thought it freakin' rocked. Please enjoy the next chapter!

* * *

The next day I met my dad for breakfast and spent all day with him

The next day I met my dad for breakfast and spent all day with him. Then he took me to the airport and saw me off. By the time I got home, it was one in the morning. So I took my things to my room and changed into my pajamas. Then I realized I was thirsty, so I went down to the kitchen for a drink. I had gotten a canned Coke out of the refrigerator and had taken a sip before I noticed the door that led out to the back yard was cracked. I walked over to it and peered out the door window. Scott was sitting out on the steps.

"Hey, can't sleep?" I asked, stepping outside.

He looked at me over his shoulder. "No," he said. "Did you just get home?"

"Yeah."

"Aren't you tired?"

"A little, but I was thirsty so I came to get something to drink." I pointed to the can I was holding. "Want some?"

He held up a half gallon of chocolate milk from where it had been sitting on a step between his knees. "I've got my own. But thanks."

"Mind if I sit out here with you?"

"No, come on," he said, patting the step beside him.

I sat down and took another sip of my Coke. "So what are you doing sitting outside after one in the morning?"

"Jean couldn't sleep too well, she was a little fidgety. Sometimes she sleeps better when she has the bed all to herself."

"So you came out here to drink chocolate milk?"

He looked over and gave me a small smile. "Yeah." I nodded. "So how was the wedding?"

I shrugged. "It was okay. I'm not too keen on weddings, really."

"Not even when Tony's there?" he asked, giving me a sly smile as he took a drink of milk from the jug.

"Logan told you?"

"Oh yeah. He told _everyone_. He thought it was too funny to keep to himself."

I rolled my eyes. "Of course he did," I said with a sigh.

"Oh come on, you didn't find it the slightest bit humorous?"

I gave him a look. "No," I said. "It's creepy."

"And kind of funny."

"I've _kissed_ my step-brother, that's _not_ funny."

"Wait a second, back up. _When_ did you kiss him? I thought I interrupted the two of you before he could ever kiss you?"

"You did. And I know you did that on purpose by the way," I said.

"I was just checking on you -"

"Bull," I said, cutting him off. "You interrupted us because you didn't want him to kiss me."

"Maybe."

"Maybe," I repeated as I shook my head a laughed. "You did, but that's not the point. Do you remember when I told you about the Blind Man Murderer's daughter and how I recorded what she said and then gave it to Tony?"

"Yeah."

"When he left the bar he kissed me."

"So did you feel fireworks or anything?"

I laughed. "Not quite."

"So it wasn't that great?"

"I don't know. I've only got one other kiss to compare it to," I said. "And it sort of takes top billing."

He smiled at me. "That's good to know, thank you," he said. "So aside from finding out that your _second_ greatest kiss is now your step-brother, what else did you do?"

"I went and saw my dad."

"How did that go?"

"Really well. I think we got a lot of stuff worked out between us, which is good."

"Do you miss him?"

"Yeah, I do actually." I shook my head. "I don't know why, I didn't use to."

"I think that just comes with getting older. After my parents died, I missed them, but it wasn't until I got a bit older that I realized just _how_ much I missed them."

"My parents are alive, though."

"But it's the same thing. You can think about them and miss them, but it's not until things start happening that you wish they could be there to share with you that it really hits you," he said. "I think about my parents every time I look at Jean and think about the baby. They never got to meet either one of them."

"What do you think they would have thought about Jean?"

"My dad would have been proud that I married someone as beautiful as her. And my mom would have just been happy that I found a smart and sensible woman to settle down with."

"What would they have thought about you having a baby?"

I watched him smile. "They would have been very excited," he said. "I just hope I can be half the father mine was."

"You're going to be a great father, you shouldn't worry about that."

He let out a sigh. "I don't know," he said. "It's kind of scary."

"You're going to be great."

He looked at me. "I'm going to be in charge of _raising_ someone. I have to take care of them. What if I screw up?"

I smiled at him. "Then you screw up. Every parent does, Scott. That doesn't mean you're a bad one, though."

"What about when I lose Jean? What am I going to do then? How can I raise a little girl all on my own?"

"You're not going to," I said, remembering what Hank had said to me when I had expressed my exact same fears to him. "You're never going to raise your kid alone in this house. We're all going to be here to help you."

"But what's she going to do without a mother?"

"I don't know," I said, placing my hand on his back up close to his neck. "But I'm going to be here whenever you need me."

I kept my hand on his back and I could feel when his breathing pattern changed. Then I heard him start crying. "How can she leave me? How can she come back and let me have her and then just die on me?" he asked, his voice bitter. "How can she come back, give me a baby and then leave me to take care of her all on my own? How can she do that?"

"She's not doing it on purpose; she didn't know any of this would happen. She didn't know she was going to get sick."

"But I'm going to lose her all over again, only this time I have to watch her die. I have to watch her get sicker and sicker and die right in front of me. I can't do that. I can't watch her die again, Jayden. I'm not strong enough to handle that."

"You don't have to be strong all the time. It's okay to be upset sometimes, too."

He wiped away the tears that were falling from under his visor. "I just get _so_ mad at her sometimes."

"That's natural."

"And then I feel guilty for being mad at her."

"I can't tell you how to feel, Scott, because I have absolutely no idea what you're going through. But I've lived with you for over a year and I think I know you pretty well. And I know that this fearless leader act…isn't so much of an act. There's a _reason_ why Xavier made you the leader of the team: Because you're a strong person. You know what to do when the time calls for it. I have no doubt that you'll be able to take care of your daughter," I said. "But I'm always going to be here for you whenever you don't feel like you're strong enough to go on your own anymore."

He looked at me and I saw more tears streaking down his face. I felt pain, and fear, and anger radiating off him. I could feel his hurt and guilt. His confusion. And I wanted so much just to make it stop. But I couldn't. No matter how much I told him that I was going to be there for him, I couldn't tell him that it was going to be okay. Because it wasn't.

Scott was a good man. A strong one and a brave one, too. And he didn't deserve all the pain he was going through. But he _was_ going to survive. Just like he did the first time he lost Jean. Only this time he was going to have a good reason to stay sane: His baby girl. She was going to keep him from losing his mind. But I wondered if it was enough.

I pulled him closer and he grabbed me, holding me tight. And he cried in my arms. The man everyone saw was the epitome of a leader, he was crying.

Scott and I never spoke about that night again. I didn't bring it up and I thought if he ever needed to talk about it, he knew where to find me. So from then on, he never mentioned being angry or scared. _I_ knew he felt that way, but as far as everyone else was concerned, Scott was a completely happy and doting husband and soon to be father. And no one needed to know any differently.

* * *

Two weeks after my mother's wedding, the weather took a turn for the worse. What had started out as a nice and cool summer had suddenly become blazing hot. And Logan's cure for the heat was to train in the Danger Room.

For two straight hours we didn't run a single session. Instead he had me running drills through an elaborate obstacle course that was akin to that of the set of American Gladiators, only harder. Hundred pound weights swung at me as I did my best to run across a balance beam that was slick with oil while flames shot out from the ceiling. Although the ground was covered with blocks of foam padding in case I fell off, because I had a tendency to injure myself on the concrete floor.

After twelve runs on the balance beam from Hell, I crashed on the foam and refused to get back up.

"Come on darlin'. You got two more runs to do before we move on to the next one," Logan said. He was standing above me, wearing his jeans and a white T-shirt and smoking a cigar.

"I don't _want_ to move on," I moaned. "This is like, the seventh obstacle thingy that I've been through and more than half of them have involved fire of some sort. Seriously dude, isn't it hot enough without the added heat?"

"Hey, didn't you grow up in California?"

I looked up at him and rolled my eyes. "Yeah, _northern_ California. Not _all_ of the state is sunshine and super high temperatures all the time, you know? Sometimes we even get a thing called _snow_," I said sarcastically.

He shook his head. "It ain't that bad. Now get up."

"It's too hot."

"How're you gonna be able to be on the team if you can't stand the heat with your uniform on?"

"Okay, so you guys might go to places that are a wee bit hotter than a hundred degrees, but really, how many times do you have flames shot at your head?"

"Whenever there's a mutant shooting flames at our heads, kid. Pay attention."

"I am…kind of," I said, letting out a sigh and throwing my arms over my head.

"If you think it's hot in here, how are you gonna stand bein' somewhere hotter?"

"I probably won't. I'll just put in a request for cold location missions only."

"It doesn't work like that. You go when you're called and you do what you're told to do," he said. "You gotta work with your mutation."

"Yeah, see, _my_ mutation isn't really useful. I see things, big whoop, that's why I have to train twice as hard as everyone else. So I can make up for my lack of physical powers," I said. "So if they call a mission somewhere hot, I can just fake sick and I wouldn't be missed."

He shook his head but smiled all the same. "Get up."

I did, although grudgingly so, and let out a sigh. "Wouldn't you rather go sit in a tub of ice and eat popsicles?"

"No."

"Well wouldn't you rather let me do it?"

"Yeah," he said. "_After_ we get done in here." I let out a groan. "Come on, we can run another course, we don't have to do this one anymore."

"What's with all this 'we' stuff? _I'm_ running the courses; you're just standing and criticizing me."

"I'm not criticizin', I'm just pointin' out what you're doin' wrong."

I rolled my eyes. "Because that's _totally_ different," I muttered.

But he didn't listen. He moved on to the next course and I had no choice but to follow him. After my _lovely_ run on the balance beam, we went the completely opposite route. I had to crawl under a net that was half a foot above the ground, climb over six different walls, each one taller than the last, and I had to cross fifty feet by one of the worst, most painful monkey bars I had ever seen, with huge gaps between each bar. After that I had the 'pleasure' of running up a slanted wall that had a conveyer belt going in the opposite direction, fighting my way through a tangled jungle of ropes, and then climbing up a twenty foot rope while water dumped on me from above, making the rope slick and hard for me to see. When I was done, I had to run it seven more times. And each time I had to go faster in order to complete it, or I had to go back to the beginning and start all over again.

And then I ran out of the room to puke my guts out in the women's locker room. I hadn't felt so physically exhausted since my first session in the Danger Room. But the heat combined with the fact that I hadn't ran a session that hard the entire time I had been training made me ill. When I was done throwing up, I took a quick shower there in the locker room, then I went straight up to my own bedroom, filled my bathtub with the coldest water I could and submerged my whole body in it. I only came up long enough for air or whenever my water started warming up, and then I would let it out then refill it with colder water. I had my head underwater when I heard someone knocking on my door.

I got out of my tub and wrapped a towel around me before going into my room to answer the door. Scott was standing there.

"Oh, uh…I didn't realize you were in the shower," he said.

"It's fine. I'm turning into a prune anyway. I was just trying to cool down after my session in the Danger Room."

"Was it a tough one?"

"Yeah," I said. "A two and a half hour long one filled with _tons_ of fun little obstacle courses that I had to keep running through over and over."

"You're going to have to learn how to operate it on your own. Logan's going to end up killing you with as hard as he makes you train."

I laughed. "And _you_ didn't train this hard before you joined the team?"

"No, actually. We took it pretty easy for a while and slowly built up to where we felt we needed to be before ever going on a mission," he said. "Although we were sadly mistaken in thinking we were ready then. I feel the team's the strongest it's ever been right now, after more than ten years of training for Storm and me. Logan's been fighting since before any of us were born, and I have to hand it to him, he's good at it. As for Bobby and Rogue, they started training for the team at a time when they had teacher's to help them and a Danger Room that's far more advanced than the one Jean, Storm, Hank and I had to use."

"You do have a strong team, Summers, I agree."

"And it'll only get stronger when you're a part of it."

I smiled. "I don't know about that, but thanks anyway," I said. "And I don't mean to sound rude or anything, but is there a specific reason why you came here?" I asked, clutching the top of my towel to my chest.

"Yeah, sorry," he said and I saw him blush slightly. "I wanted to know if you wanted to pick out a car from the garage to drive."

"Sure. Let me get dressed real quick and I'll go down with you."

"Is it all right if I wait in here for you, or would you rather me wait in the hall?"

I let out a small laugh. "Yeah, it's fine. Why wouldn't it be?"

He shrugged. "I don't know. Girls are kind of weird about that sort of thing sometimes."

"I think you're forgetting that I'm not a normal girl, Scott."

He smiled. "That's very true."

"So yes; you can stay in here while I get dressed," I said before turning to go back to my bathroom.

I pulled on a green tank top and a pair of cut off blue jean shorts that came just above my knee. Ever since the temperature had sky rocketed, that had been my typical day wear. I couldn't stand a T-shirt, let alone pants, and a wife beater was still too much. Logan had gotten onto me about my 'skimpy' tops, but even his stern look wasn't enough to deter me.

After I got dressed, I went back to my room and saw Scott looking at my wall of photos. "See anything new?" I asked with a bit of a laugh. I hadn't put up any new photos in weeks.

"No. I was just looking at this one of you and Logan in the middle. I can't believe how long your hair used to be," he said. "I'm so used to it being short now."

"I don't even think about it anymore."

He looked over at me. "You've changed a lot this year."

"Is that bad?"

"No," he said. "You're different, but in a good way."

"Are you saying you didn't like how I was before?" I teased with a smile.

"I like you no matter how you are, Jayden."

"Aw, I like you too, Scott."

He laughed. "Okay, enough sap, let's go find you a car."

I followed him downstairs and to the garage. There were dozens of cars, most of which were never driven. Scott had his own collection that he alternated between. The cars that the rest of the staff drove were the ones that the Professor gave to them to drive. And that's where I was supposed to pick mine from.

"So, do you know which one you want?"

"Yeah, I've had my eye on your Aston Martin for a while," I said.

"Sorry, but you can't have it. Next to the Blackbird, it's my other baby."

"You're pathetic."

He looked at me. "Hey, you like it, too."

"Yeah, but if it was mine, I wouldn't call it my 'baby'," I said.

"Which is exactly why you don't need it. A car like that deserves respect. It's a classic," he said. "So which car, _aside_ from my Aston Martin, do you want?"

"I don't know, I kind of like your red Cadillac, too." He shot me a look and I laughed. "I'm joking," I said, walking further into the garage. The cold concrete felt nice against my bare feet. "What about that one?"

He looked to where I was pointing. "That Jeep Commander?"

"Yeah, does anyone drive it?"

"No, it's a few years old. No one's driven it in a while."

"Because it's a few years old?"

"Yeah. Don't you want a newer one?"

I shook my head as I walked over to it. "No, I like this one," I said. "Does it have a good air conditioner?"

He laughed. "As far as I can remember it does. I took it for a spin in the spring to make sure everything was working right." He opened the driver's side door and motioned for me to get in. "Why don't you sit in it and see how you like it?"

I climbed in and looked around. There was enough room so that I would feel claustrophobic, the seats were comfortable, and Scott said it ran well, plus it had good air conditioning, which was really all I cared about right then. But the third row seats and three sunroofs didn't hurt either.

"I like it," I said, smiling at him. "Can I have it?"

"Xavier said you could have whichever one you picked out. Although, to be quite honest, I thought you would have picked something a little more…dainty."

I laughed. "I'm not exactly the dainty kind of girl, Scott. Why would I want a care like that?"

"Okay, maybe not dainty, but slightly more girly."

"What? You don't think I'll need four-wheel drive?" I joked.

"It'll be great if you ever plan to go mudding."

"What's mudding?"

He laughed. "It's where you go driving through a bunch of mud, usually out in the woods somewhere."

"And _why_ do you know that?"

"Because it's a guy thing and I'm a guy."

"Well it sounds really stupid to me."

"It is for the most part. If you're really drunk it's kind of fun."

"Again I ask you, how do you know this?"

"It's another guy thing."

"You're so sexist."

He laughed again. "I am _not_ sexist. I just know that most girls wouldn't want to do it. They have better sense. _That's_ why it's a guy thing," he said. "So are you sure that this is the one you want?"

"Yeah, maybe I would like to go mudding some time," I joked.

"Great. All you have to do is find a bunch of drunk rednecks. I'm sure they wouldn't mind you joining them."

"Well, I like this Jeep. It feels good."

"Then it's all yours. Congratulations on your first car, Rivers."

I beamed at him. "Thanks."

"Why don't you come inside and I'll give you your set of keys, all right?"

I climbed out of the Jeep, left the garage, and followed Scott to the Professor's office. He wasn't there, but Scott found the keys for my Jeep Commander and then he left me to go check on Jean, who had been a bit sick at her stomach. So I went to the kitchen for lunch.

"Good afternoon, Jayden," Hank said. "How are you today?"

"I'm all right. I'd be better if it wasn't so bloody hot," I said. "How are you?"

"I'm doing well," he said, taking a bite from his sandwich.

I went to the refrigerator and looked around for something to eat. "I picked out my car," I said, taking out a box of leftover pizza. I opened it up and saw there were four slices of bacon, sausage, black olive and pepperoni pizza left. I had ordered it two days before and was surprised to see it was still there. The kids usually preyed on pizza like sharks.

"Which one did you choose?" Hank asked, inquiring about my car.

"The black Jeep Commander."

"Very good choice, it's sturdy and practical," he said. "Have you driven it yet?"

"No, but I will when I go to work later today," I said, taking the pizza box and a Coke from the refrigerator and sitting down across from Hank.

"Logan said you were ill earlier today. Are you feeling any better?"

"Yeah, it was just the heat and the workout, it made me sick," I said. "But I'm fine now. And absolutely starving."

"Well I'm glad you're feeling much better," he said.

"Speaking of which, have you seen Jean today?"

"Yes I have, why do you ask?"

"Scott said that she wasn't feeling too well. I was just going to see what was wrong with her."

"She jut got a bit dizzy and sick at her stomach. I sent her to bed, but she's fine."

I let out a sigh. "I'm going to be _such_ a nervous wreck until she has that baby."

"It's normal to be sick while you're pregnant. The heat's not making it any easier," he said. "There's nothing to worry about."

But I couldn't help but to worry. I had never been around anyone that was pregnant before, so I didn't know _exactly_ how it was supposed to go. I knew that you conceived, nine months later you had a baby, and in between the thing grew. As far as how the woman was supposed to feel _during_ that time, I had no clue.

But Jean was different. She was sick, she was _dying_, and every time she was ill, I worried. Obviously I worried about Scott, everyone knew that, but I was genuinely concerned about her, about the baby, and no matter how many books I read, I was still scared.

* * *

"Are you goin' to work dressed like that?" Logan asked.

"Yeah, what's wrong with it?"

After lunch I left the kitchen and went to the rec-room. None of the kids were there; they were mostly all outside either playing or swimming in the pool. So I wandered around the school until I ended up there in the rec-room, trying to find at least a few pieces in a five-thousand piece puzzle that had been there for a couple of months.

Logan stared down at me from where he was standing right beside me. "Your shirt's a little too low, don't you think?"

"No," I said. "I think it's keeping me from having a heatstroke."

"Can't you find a shirt that'll keep you from heatstroke that's a little bit higher up?"

I sat back against the couch and propped my feet up on the edge of the table that held the puzzle. "Logan, you can't see anything. It's not like I'm flashing people."

"Close to it."

I rolled my eyes at him. "Unless you know some other way for me to stay cool, I'm not changing."

"Your boss doesn't care about you wearin' clothes like that?"

"Dude, I usually wear jeans and a T-shirt, it's a pretty casual job," I said. "Besides, when I dress like this, I get more customers and better tips." I laughed but he didn't look too amused. "Oh, come on, it's a joke."

"It's not funny."

I let out a sigh and spread my hands open. "Sorry, furry-face."

He shook his head at me. "What time do you gotta go to work?"

"Four. Why?"

"Just wonderin'," he said, sitting down on the couch. "Summers told me you picked out the Jeep Commander."

"Yeah. Do you think that was a good choice?"

"Yeah, you did a good job," he said as I lay my head on his shoulder and he wrapped his arm around mine. "And since you're probably drivin' to work in it today, I got you an early birthday present."

"Really? What is it?" I asked as he reached into his pocket and pulled something from it and then handed it to me. "You got me a can of pepper spray?"

"Happy birthday, darlin'," he said with a bit of a grin.

"Do you really think I'll ever need this with how well you've taught me to fight?"

"You don't always need to send everyone to the hospital. Sometimes you just need to walk away."

"You mean spray them in the eyes with mace until they start crying, and _then_ walk away?"

"Whatever works for you, kid."

I laughed. "Thanks. I'll add this to my keychain and pray I don't spray myself by accident."

"Well if you do, wet a towel with milk and put it on your eyes. It'll take the sting out."

"I don't even want to know how you know that."

"It's probably best if you don't."

I laughed at him but my laughter was cut short when my vision blurred, then everything went dark, and when it came into focus, I was in a dark building.

I was in a small, one room shack that I assumed was some sort of shed. And judging from the rusted tools and equipment on the walls and shelves, it hadn't been used in quite a while.

I looked around the room, not knowing why I was there. I couldn't see anything of any important, just a bunch of rusty junk and cobwebs.

Then I saw something more.

A small hand moved into a ray of light that shone in through a crack in the splintered wooden door and splayed across the dusty floor. The hand belonged to a child. I hadn't seen them when I had looked around the room, but once I knew they were there, I could see them. Their clothes were covered in dirt and dust, creating a camouflage. And they were hidden in the shadows of the building.

I heard them groan and crawl towards the small light pouring in from the doorway. Once they reached it, I saw the sunlight fall on the face of an absolutely gorgeous little girl. But she looked sick and starved. Her face and teeth had matching brown dirt caked on them. And she looked no more than six years old.

She had tangled black hair that was matted together. And despite all of the dirt covering her skin, I could tell she was pale, too pale to be healthy, with deep, dark circles under her eyes. But it was her actual eyes that drew me in, that refused to let me look away. They were a deep, deep brown, almost black, and looked completely hopeless. They were haunting.

I watched her crawl closer to the door and nudge it softly. But it was locked from the outside. And given her lack of enthusiasm over it, I assumed it was a routine she performed everyday with the same results. The question was, how many days had she been there to do it?

She lay in front of the door, doing nothing more than breathing, and then there was a noise outside. A look of panic crossed her dirty little face and I knew that the noise wasn't a good thing.

Loud footsteps moved closer outside and the sound of gravel crunching underneath heavy boots added to the panic the little girl felt. And when the door began to rattle as the person outside removed the lock, her panic grew.

She moved as quickly as she could, curling herself up in a tight ball in the darkest corner of the building, doing her best to make herself invisible.

"Where are you, you filthy little pig?" a woman said, her voice rough and scratchy. "You better show yourself right now."

I could see the girl quivering in the corner, her whole body shaking. But judging from her size and the fact that her bones jutting from her skin, she was starving and that was adding to her physical shaking. But she was definitely terrified of the woman, whoever she was, and continued her attempt to hide from her.

But the building was small and didn't take very long for her to find the little girl. And when she did, her terror only grew.

The old woman grabbed the girl by the head of her hair and dragged her from the corner and out of the shed, onto the sharp gravel that cut into her skin roughly as she was pulled over them. Her head began to bleed as the hair was being pulled hard by the woman. The little girl gritted her teeth, but didn't scream, as tears streaked down her dirty little face. The woman pulled her about ten feet away from the shed, into a clearing in the woods behind her house.

"Have you repented?" she asked the girl. "Have you?" She didn't say anything and the woman bent down and smacked the girl hard across the face. "You answer me when I'm talking to you. Have you repented?"

"No," the little girl said, her voice small and shaking.

"Then I guess you'll be going to Hell."

The woman tied the girl's hands behind her back and bound her feet together. And then she started chanting in a language I didn't understand. She looked wild and crazed. I watched as she pulled out a bottle from the pocket of her apron and began sprinkling what I assumed to be Holy Water on her. As she did, her chanting grew louder and louder.

The girl's cries also grew louder and her panic grew stronger. She didn't understand what she had done to deserve being treated this way, nor did she understand what the woman was doing. But she was terrified, her dark eyes wide with fear and shining with tears. The old woman had always been mean to her, but this was new and it scared her more than anything.

"You are _not_ my daughter's daughter. You are the daughter of the Devil," the woman said. "And now you will go live with him."

She took a book of matches from one apron pocket and a can from the other. She made a circle around the little girl with the liquid from the can, I could smell it strongly and the gasoline burned my nostrils.

"Ashes to ashes, dust to dust," the woman whispered, dropping the match and setting fire to the dry ground below her.

And the little girl screamed, her voice ringing loud in my ears.

Then my sight went blurry and when everything came back into focus, I was in the rec-room with Logan again. My vision was over.

"Hey, you okay?" Logan asked. I looked down and noticed that I was gripping his thigh tight, digging what little fingernails I had into his jeans. "Kid, you all right?"

I looked up at him and shook my head numbly. "No."

"What did you see?"

"A little girl. There's a woman, her grandmother, she's going to kill her."

"Where?"

I told him they were in Oregon and I gave him the partial address I saw on the side of the mailbox as the girl was being dragged outside. Then he kissed me bye and left me to find Scott so that they could find and save her. And I left to get ready for work.

I didn't know how much longer I was going to be able to put off being a part of the team. There was no way I was going to be able to continue to go to work and pretend that things like that didn't happen, that I didn't see them in visions. I couldn't keep pretending that it was all okay. Not anymore.

* * *

Five hours of working over latte machines and coffee steamers, I was burning up and in a bad mood. It had been busy my whole shift and I had only gotten one chance to call home. But when I had, Hank hadn't heard from the team and didn't know how the mission was going, or if it was even over with. And that made me worry, which put me in my bad mood. But when there was a problem with one of the coffee machines and my boss asked me to stay to fix it, I didn't even bother saying no. So I added an hour of over time to my paycheck and left the store, locking up as I went. And when I went out to go to my car, I was glad I didn't have to ride home on a bike for once.

I walked to my Jeep, hot, tired and upset. I just wanted to get home, put on my pajamas and go to bed. I wasn't paying a bit of attention to anything going on around me as I crossed the parking lot. I was walking and simultaneously digging through my oversized purse for my keys, so it wasn't until I had nearly reached the car and had my keys clutched in my hand that I felt someone following behind me. Everyone had gone home the hour before and there were no other cars in the parking lot. And considering how quietly the person was walking, too quiet for me to hear it while I was distracted, it wasn't just some random stranger. They knew what they were doing.

I quickly went through a mental check list of everyone from the school, but none of their energies matched the one behind me. So when I stopped at the driver's side of the car and felt a hand grip on my shoulder, I reacted instantly, without thought. I spun around on my heels, raised up my hand that was still clutching my keys and sprayed mace right into the eyes of the stranger behind me.

The man swore and blinked his eyes furiously. It only took me a couple of moments to realize that the 'strange man' was actually Tony De Luca.

"Tony, I'm so sorry!" I said. "I didn't know it was you."

"Do you just spray other people in the eyes with pepper spray then?" he asked, rubbing his eyes with one of his hands.

"No, I'm sorry, I just wasn't thinking," I said. "Are you okay?"

"No, it stings. Do you have any water in your car so I can flush it out?"

I thought for a moment. "No, I don't, but I have some stuff in the store that'll help," I said. "Come on, follow me."

I took him by the arm and led him back to the entrance of the store. Then I searched for the key to the door and made a mental note to attach it to the rest of my keys. Once I found it, I unlocked the doors, turned on one of the lights, led him inside to one of the tables in the café and he sat down. Then I went behind the counter, found one of the clean cleaning rags and went to the refrigerator to pour non-fat milk on it. Then I took it over to him and sat down in the seat across from his.

"Here, put this on your eyes, it's supposed to help," I said, handing him the rag.

He accepted it and lay what he had been holding down on the table. I hadn't noticed he had even been holding anything until then, when I realized it was a bouquet of flowers.

"Those are for your, by the way," he said, putting the rag on his eyes.

"Thank you," I said, picking them up. It was made up of daisies, red poppies, black-eyed Susans, and a bunch of tiger lilies. "They're beautiful."

"I wasn't sure what to get. You don't really seem like a roses kind of girl."

"I'm not," I said. "Do you always bring flowers to girls who spray you in the eyes, though?"

He laughed. "Only the ones who help me out afterwards," he said. "And out of sheer curiosity, how did you know that milk, or whatever this is, stops eyes from burning?"

"Logan told me."

"And how does he know about it?"

"I thought it best not to ask," I said. "But I'm really, _really_ sorry."

"Hey, at least you're being safe," he said with a smile.

"Not to be rude, but what are you doing here?"

"I moved into my apartment a few days ago and thought I would just say hi since I'm in town now."

"But how did you know where I work?"

"I called your house to see if you were home and a girl answered and said you were here."

"What girl?"

"I don't know, but she had a really thick southern accent."

"That would be Rogue."

"Her name is _Rogue_?"

I laughed. "It's not her real name."

"Then why do you call her that?"

"Everyone calls her that," I said. "Everyone but Logan."

"What does he call her?"

"Her real name. But only when he's just with her or talking to me about her. When everyone else is around, he calls her Rogue."

"Okay…why?"

"Because only two other people at the school know her name. She ran away from home when she was seventeen and changed it."

"Why did she run away from home?"

"She's a mutant," I said. "Just like the rest of us."

He took the rag away from his eyes and blinked at me. "The school you live at, it's for mutants?"

I nodded my head. "Yeah."

"I didn't know there were schools like that."

"And as far as you're concerned, you _don't_ know. You never heard me talk about it, okay?"

"Yeah, I won't mention it. But how did you find out about it?"

"Logan. When I met him he lived there and he told me about it."

"How did you meet him? Did your parents know his name when they adopted you?"

"No," I said, placing my flowers back on the table and standing, then I took the rag he had been using for his eyes. "My real mother didn't even know his name, I don't think."

"They weren't married?" he asked as I walked back behind the counter to put the rag with the other dirty ones to be washed the next day.

"No. My mom worked in a diner in a little town up in Canada. He would come in and eat, and all the waitresses had crushes on him, or whatever. Apparently my mom was the only one who talked him into going home with her. They were only together that one night. The next time she saw him, she told him she was pregnant and that I was his. He left and she didn't see him against for almost nine months."

"What happened then?"

I let out a deep sight. "She was in a bar, I've not figured out _why_ yet, but she was there. She went to the bathroom and went into labor. He came in and helped deliver me. He cut my cord and wrapped me up in his flannel shirt and he held me. He was the first person to hold me," I said. "And then he left. Three years later, my mother got tired of looking at a child that looked just like him and dropped me off at an orphanage. A year later my parents adopted me."

"So how did you find him after all those years if you didn't know his name?"

I walked back to the table where he was sitting and sat back down. "It was sort of an accident."

"How?"

"I kept having visions of him, but I didn't know who he was. Every time I would go to sleep, I saw him. During the day I would have visions at random times. My parents thought I was going crazy and had your uncle Dr. Lewis come evaluate me. That night I ran away. I made my way to Canada and took enough clues from my visions to piece together an idea of where he was. When I found him, my only intentions were to figure out _why_ I kept seeing him. I didn't know who he was."

"How did you find out?"

"I spent about two months with him and then I finally had a vision about everything that happened between him and my real mother. I found out that's who he was," I said. "And then I went home."

"He let you?"

"When we were in Canada, Logan made his money doing cage fighting in bars. He would usually stay out until two or three in the morning. I left before he got back, but I wrote him a note, explaining what I had seen and why I had left."

"When did you move in with him?"

"About two months later. I was only supposed to stay for five or six months, though."

"Why?"

"My parents didn't know about the school or who Logan was. The only reason they even sent me there was because your uncle told them it would be good therapy for me. If I was away from home with some other kids closer to my age and having the Professor counsel me, I might get better."

"But there was nothing wrong with you."

"No," I said. "But they thought so. So I went. My only problem was getting attached to everyone that lived there. I got too close to Logan to leave him again. I've been there for a year and a half now."

"Do your parents still not know that he's your father?"

"No, they know. I'm just not sure how happy they are about it. I used to be this perfect little girl who did everything right. When they found out that I had been lying, I think it devastated them. I wasn't perfect anymore."

"No one's perfect Jayden."

"Yeah, I know," I said with a bit of a smile. "Your eyes are bloodshot, by the way."

"I would imagine so," he said with a bit of a laugh. "I'm still confused about why you were so quick to spray me, though."

"I'm sorry. I'm just having a really hard day and I've sort of been in a bit of a bad mood, I wasn't thinking. Logan gave that to me so I wouldn't punch people when they scared me."

"Well how hard do you hit that being sprayed in the face with pepper spray is better?"

I shrugged. "Pretty hard, I guess. Logan taught me how to punch and he's pretty good at that sort of thing."

"Yeah, you can tell," he said. "But when you say he taught you how to punch, do you mean those girly, barely grazing you kind of punches?"

I laughed. "Not quite. I'm not the best, but I'm getting better. I can hold my own in a fight."

"Really? Do you fight other girls?"

"I've fought Rogue a few times."

"Were you by any chance wearing a bikini and in a pool full of Jell-O?"

I let out another laugh and shook my head. "No, we weren't," I said. "We're sort of trained to fight like men, or soldiers, or something. Logan's theory is that when I'm defending myself, it more than likely _won't_ be against a skinny little five-foot-four woman. It would be against a grown man bigger than me, so I need to know how to take care of myself. Which I do."

"Well good for you."

I smiled at him. "You don't believe me, do you?"

"To be quiet honest Miss Rivers, you don't exactly seem like the kind of girl you see picking street fights."

"And no offense, Mr. De Luca, but you don't know me that well. I don't pick street fights; I don't pick _any_ fights, okay? But like I said, I can hold my own. Logan's whipped me into a decent fighter, and those are _his_ words. That's coming from a guy who used to get _paid_ to fight."

"No, I completely believe you."

"You so totally don't, dude."

"And you so totally just called me a dude."

"Which is beside the point. You don't believe me and you're being patronizing about it."

"I'm not being patronizing. I'm just saying, whether you can or not, you don't look like the type of girl who would be able to fight. And that's not a bad thing. Most girls who _look_ tough, they aren't that attractive. Girls who _look_ like girls but can secretly kick your butt, that's hot."

"I could kick your butt; do you think that makes me hot?"

He gave me an adorable boyish grin. "I think you know I do, even before you told me that," he said. "But yeah, that definitely doesn't hurt."

I smiled. "Thank you."

"You don't always have to say thank you to compliments, you know? Sometimes it's okay to just accept them."

"That's not really how I was raised."

He laughed. "Oh, I _know_ how you were raised, Miss Rivers," he said. "And thanking people is probably one of the only things you still do."

"I haven't changed _that_ much."

"You were raised to be prim and proper, polite and charming. You're supposed to be entertaining and although they want you to do well at school, you don't necessarily be that bright, just as long as you can stand there and look pretty."

"Maybe."

He grinned at me again. "Yeah, maybe," he said, leaning in closer to me. "But that's not how you are."

"You're red eyes are slightly freaking me out," I said in a quiet but serious tone. He laughed. "But I'm curious to hear your take on everything. How do you think I am, exactly?"

"You were raised to follow orders, to do what you were told, and you listened because for some reason you were scared of the repercussions if you didn't. Now that they've been removed, you finally feel at ease to a step out of line and a defiance I assume you always felt is finally being explored. You didn't _change_, because you never were any of that. It was an act, a very good act, but one you dropped the first chance you got."

I gave him a small smile as I leaned over the table, mimicking how he was positioned. "That's nice and all Mr. De Luca, but just about anyone could tell that about me," I said. "So what else do you got?"

"You're a lot smarter than you let others believe. You don't dumb yourself down, but you don't let people see it either. The same goes for how strong you are, but you do hide it, you may not even know how strong you can be. It's not because you're self deprecating, it's because you're scared. You feel like you need to keep a bit of yourself hidden in case someone starts figuring you out, you can show them that they don't know you as well as they thought they did."

"Is that it?"

"No," he said, staring me in the eyes. "I'm just getting started. The _reason_ you do it is because you need to be in control. You don't like getting close to people and by not letting them see everything about you, you get some sort of control no matter what's happening, you're scared that if you lose that control, if you let that barrier down, that someone will hurt you. Because someone already has."

"And who do you think that was?"

"Your mother, your _real_ one, not Terry."

"How did you come up with that theory, exactly?"

"Because insecurities and fears like that of getting close to people usually start when you're young and they're typically brought on by something tragic. Like your mother abandoning you at an orphanage when you were three."

"I never said she _abandoned_ me."

"No, what you said was that she got tired of looking at a child that looked like your father and that she _dropped_ you off and an orphanage," he said. "Your voice and body language said she abandoned you. And judging by the tone of your voice, that's something you're still trying to accept. So she left you, you used that as a reason to keep yourself from other people, whether consciously or not, and somewhere along the lines you found out the real reason why she gave you up for adopting. And that just made you want to hide yourself from other people more."

I leaned back in my seat. "Good for you, Tony, you found out my secret; I'm just a scared little girl."

He leaned back in his seat too, but kept his eyes locked with mine. "And that," he said, pointing at me, "is a way of protecting yourself by deflecting the seriousness of the conversation with sarcasm. You're upset that I knew all of that about you and you're trying to use humor to make me think I was wrong. But I'm not."

I shook my head. "You're not wrong. I know that," I said. "I _am_ scared of getting close to people, but I'm trying to get over it and I don't like people pointing it out. I don't think _anyone_ wants to have their flaws pointed out."

"I wasn't trying to point out your flaws, Jayden."

"What were you doing? Profiling me?"

"Yeah," he said, nodding his head. "I didn't mean anything by it."

"I think I know why you don't have a girlfriend," I said, letting a small smile cross my face.

He let out a chuckle. "Because I annoy them with my profiling?"

"No, because you use it as an excuse."

"How?"

"You hide behind your job and attempt to use it as a legitimate excuse for why you're not with anyone."

"Are you profiling _me_ now?"

"No, I technically don't know how since I didn't go to school for it, so all of this is purely intuitive."

"All right. So _why_ do I hide behind my job as an excuse to not be with anyone, even though I don't actually _do_ that job anymore?"

"You extreme commitment issues."

He laughed. "What man doesn't?"

"You're different."

"How?"

"Because whenever you meet a girl you like but get too scared to commit and breakup with her, you have the option of telling your parents or Chris that although she _seemed_ normal, she had some deeply rooted emotional issues that would have come out eventually. And had you continued dating, the two of you would have ended up getting hurt and it would have ended badly for the both of you."

He grinned at me. "So that's your intuitive assessment of me, huh?"

I nodded. "Yeah," I said. "And it looks like I'm not the only one who uses humor and sarcasm to deflect a serious situation, either."

He kept grinning, making my heart jump a little. "And like I said before; you're a lot smarter than you let people believe."

I smiled back at him, feeling my cheeks slightly blush. I was getting ready to say something, doing my best to think of a fun and flirty comment, when I saw someone walking towards the store. I stood to tell them that we were closed when I realized it was Logan. And he looked more pissed than usual.

"What's goin' on?" he asked, storming into the café.

"Nothing. Why?"

"You were supposed to be home an hour and a half ago."

"A machine broke, they asked me to stay and fix it, so I did and -"

"What's _he_ doin' here?" he asked, cutting me off and pointing at Tony.

"I just came to visit her," Tony said, standing up. "I didn't know she was supposed to be home at a certain time, sir."

Logan gave him a hard look and swore. "What's wrong with your eyes? Have you been smokin' something?"

"No, I sprayed him in the eyes with my mace on accident," I said. "What's going on? Why are you so upset?"

He looked away from Tony and looked to me. "You said she was in Oregon."

"What?"

"You said the woman and the little girl were in Oregon. Why?"

He was upset and I was confused. I didn't understand why he was so mad.

"There was a letter in the woman's apron, I saw Portland written on it. The few numbers I could see on it matched the ones I saw on the mailbox."

"But you never saw Oregon written anywhere?"

"Well, no, but there's only one Portland, isn't there?"

"There's a Portland, Maine," he said. "Could she be there?"

"Yeah, I guess. I just assumed they were in Oregon, I didn't think."

"Wait, what's going on? _Who_ did you think was in Oregon?" Tony asked.

"I had a vision of a little girl, someone's going to kill her if we don't find her," I said.

"How long does she have?" Logan demanded.

I shook my head. "I don't know."

"Think!" he yelled.

I closed my eyes as my brain went into overdrive. I couldn't get my vision to play over again, it didn't work like that, but I tried to remember everything I had seen, doing my best to look for more clues. Images flashed across my mind and I tried to pick out anything that would help. Eventually my mind came back to the letter in the apron.

"The letter," I said, my eyes still closed, the image of the letter paused in my mind, "it's postmarked tomorrow." I opened my eyes to look at Logan. "The day's almost gone; you just have a few hours left before she kills her."

"Call Summers, tell him to get suited back up, we're goin' to Main as soon as I get there."

"I want to go with you," I said.

"No. You're gonna go home and you're gonna stay there until I get back."

"But this whole thing is my fault; I want to help fix it."

"You're not goin' with us," he said. "If you wanna help fix it, then go back to the house. I ain't gonna worry about watchin' out for you. So say goodbye to him, even though I don't know why he's here, and go home."

"I've just moved here, sir," Tony said. "And if you want my professional opinion, if there's a crime about to be committed, you need to alert the _proper_ authorities."

"I didn't ask for your opinion, I don't need it," Logan said. "'Cause if I _did_ tell the police, what would I tell 'em, huh? That a nineteen year old girl had a vision of a kid gettin' killed? That ain't gonna happen."

"Well what are you going to do about it?"

"That's none of your business, kid," he said, walking back towards the door. "And stay away from my daughter."

Neither of us said anything as we watched Logan walk to his motorcycle, start it up and drive away.

Then Tony turned to look at me. "What do you do at that school that permits you to go track down possible murderers without alerting the police?"

"Nothing."

"You're lying."

"No I'm not."

"Yeah, you just looked down and to the right when you answered me. That's a sign of lying," he said. "What do you do there at that school?"

"We teach kids."

"To do what?"

I crossed my arms over my chest and gave him a look. "What every other school teaches. It's a legitimate school," I said. "What are you trying to get at?"

"I don't know, Jayden, you said that the school is for mutants."

"Which I also said not to tell anyone about. Do you have _any_ idea what would happen to those kids, to the teachers, to _everyone_ there if people found out about it?"

"I'm not going to tell, I already told you I wouldn't," he said. "But it sounds a little suspect to me."

"What does? A school for mutants?"

"That and the fact that you said your own father taught you how to fight like a solider and he's going off to Maine to find someone you claim is going to kill a girl," he said. "How many other students are being trained to fight like soldiers?"

I shook my head. "I can't believe you," I said. "You're taking everything I said completely out of context. We're not training those kids to do anything."

"They're mutants."

"And so are you!" I snapped.

"But I'm not acting like a vigilante."

"Neither are they."

"No but your father is, isn't he? And he wants you to follow in his footsteps, so that's why he taught you how to fight, right?"

"No, he doesn't want me to be anything like him," I said. "But don't start preaching to me about being a vigilante; you do the exact same thing."

"No, I'm a _cop_; I have the authority to do what I do."

"Don't give me that bull crap. All you do that's different is hide behind a badge. That's it."

"I don't hide behind it," he said. "But there's a huge difference between what I do and just going out with a vendetta in mind."

"There _is_ no vendetta. There's a little girl that's going to die, which she may have already done because of my mistake and all they're trying to do is save her," I said. "You know I can't call the police and tell them what I saw. I called you last year and told you about a vision I had about a girl that was dead and what did you do? You told your boss that you got an anonymous tip because there's no way to explain it without telling people I'm a mutant."

"But you didn't kill her."

"Logan's not going to kill anyone, either," I said. "I don't know what you think about him, but he's not a cold blooded killer."

"So he's a killer with a conscious, then?" he said, his voice sarcastic.

I shook my head. "Whatever," I said. "I have to go home now, so you're going to have to leave."

"Jayden, I didn't mean that, all right? I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize," I said, taking the flowers he had brought me and shoved them against his chest. "You sound pathetic."

"I wasn't trying to insult you," he said, following me as I left the café.

"Really? Because you sure did a pretty good job for someone who didn't mean to," I said, locking the store door behind me.

"I'm just concerned about you."

I spun around and looked at him. "You're concerned about me? You're concerned so you insult my father more than once, and then you insinuate that the school where I live, my _home_, is being used to basically brainwash kids," I said. "Now I don't know if you've always gotten away with saying whatever you want because you're good looking and have half a sense of humor, but I don't buy it. You can't say a bunch of crap like that, apologize, give me a smile and everything's forgiven. That doesn't work for me."

"I understand and I'm sorry," he said, running his hand over his face. "Look, I'm tired; I've been so busy moving in that I haven't had time to sleep. And you surprised me when you sprayed me in the eyes with pepper spray. I'm sorry, I just…"

"You just _what_? Huh? I wasn't aware that loss of sleep and taking a shot of mace in the eyes was a good excuse to just say whatever you want."

"You're right."

"And you're agreeing with me so that I'll forgive you."

"Well what do you want me to do? If I disagree you get mad and if I agree you _still_ get pissed. What am I supposed to do?"

"Go home."

He nodded. "Okay, fine," he said. "But at least take the flowers. You can do whatever you want with them, throw them away when you get home, I don't care, but I didn't buy them just so I could throw them out."

I took them and started towards my Jeep for the second time that night. "Go home, Tony," I said. "Maybe you can get some sleep and won't have to worry about insulting anyone tomorrow."

When I got in my Jeep, I called Scott's cell phone and Jean answered. She said that Logan had already gotten there, told Scott what was going on and they had left. So I hung up and drove home angry. Nothing seemed to have been going right that day and it seemed to only be getting worse. I just wanted it to be over with.


	10. Awake

Disclaimer: I don't own the rights to X-Men or Marvel. I do hope ya'll enjoy this chapter, though. The last bit I had originally wrote then went back the next day and took it out. But while I was typing it up, I thought I needed to put it back in. I'd like to read what ya'll think; should I have left it out? Take care and enjoy!

* * *

When I got home, I pulled on a pair of sleeping shorts and a wife beater, then tried to go to sleep. But I couldn't. I had my window open to let in what air was blowing outside and a fan going as high as it could sitting on my nightstand, pointing right at me. Then I realized it wasn't the heat. So I turned on my CD player and listened to Jimmy Durante sing 'I'll Be Seeing You' five times before deciding that wasn't going to help either. It had nothing to do with being hot or tired; I was worried and too stressed to sleep. So after half an hour of lying in bed, tossing and turning, I got up. I couldn't stay there anymore.

I made my way downstairs, down to the lower level and once I got there I went straight to the hanger for the Blackbird. I sat down in the floor right outside of it and leaned back against the wall. The cold metal felt good on my skin, but it didn't help my mind to slow down any.

I had made a big mistake when I had told Logan that the little girl was in Oregon. I didn't even think about it, I just assumed I was right. If she died, it would be my fault. And no one could possibly argue with me about it, because it would be the truth. So I prayed that Logan and Scott could find her in time and that she would be safe.

But that wasn't the only thing on my mind. I was also thinking about my fight with Tony. I was mad at him, yeah, but part of me agreed with what he had said. The X-Men _were_ vigilantes; they had no real authority to punish anyone. But what Tony didn't understand was that the team was there to protect the ones the law ignored, or simply didn't see. They didn't waste their time on the people that didn't need them. They only helped the ones who needed them most. They weren't dumb enough to put their lives on the line without a reason. They had a cause and they fought for it. Maybe what they were doing wasn't exactly legal, but it wasn't wrong.

Life at the mansion was different. Obviously being in a house its size with as many people as there was living there was something that wasn't exactly 'normal'. Not for me anyway. I had grown up an only child and went to an all girl's private school that wasn't very big. So the transition from there to Xavier's was a shock. But it wasn't just that. It was everything that came with living there. My thoughts and worries weren't normal. I didn't know anyone else that thought about their dad being safe on a mission to save a girl they had seen in a vision.

No one else had to worry about the fact that the wife of the man they were in love with was back after a year of being thought dead. And not only was she back but she was dying because the kinetic energy that had been keeping her alive was now killing her. I didn't even know what kinetic energy was until I had moved to the school, let alone that it could kill you. Added to all of that was the fact that she was six months pregnant.

Life in California had been much simpler, there was no doubt about it. But I could never live there again. As crazy as it sounded, I had gotten used to all of the chaos. And not just the chaos, but everything that had at one point seemed foreign. I had never imagined living in a house that had a jet hanger, and yet sitting outside the doors at eleven thirty at night seemed perfectly normal to me.

I had been sitting there for about twenty minutes when I heard the Blackbird land. I didn't want for them to come out and find me to tell me what had happened. Instead I pulled myself up out of the floor and pressed the button to open the hanger. I was walking in as they were descending from the ramp. Scott was holding the little girl in his arms.

"Jayden, go get Hank," he said. "Tell him we need him in the infirmary right now!"

I turned and ran back through the halls to the elevator and took it to the first floor. From there I ran up the stairs two at a time and continued running until I got to Hank's room on the teacher's wing. I banged my fists on his door impatiently. A few moments later he came staggering to the door, clearly still half asleep.

"What's going on, Jayden? Are you all right?"

"The girl that I saw in my vision, Scott has her. He said he needs you in the infirmary right away."

He stepped back into the dark of his room and I heard him shuffling around. A few seconds later he emerged wearing a robe and his glasses. Then together we made our way quickly down to the infirmary. Scott had the little girl laid out on one of the beds. It wasn't until then that I realized her left arm was burnt and that she was unconscious.

"What happened?" Hank asked, pushing past where I stood frozen in the doorway.

"Her grandmother found out that she was a mutant and locked her up in a shed. She thought she was cursed by God, so she left her there to repent," Scott said. "She wasn't supposed to try to kill her until tomorrow, according to Jayden. But something went wrong and when we got there, she was burning the shed down, with her inside."

Hank started working on her as I stood there, still unable to move.

"How did she get out?" Hank asked.

"Logan went in and got her."

He looked up at Logan. "How was she when you went inside?"

"She was goin' in and out of consciousness," he said. "By the time we got there, she'd inhaled a lotta smoke."

"What about the burn?" Hank asked. "How did she get it?"

"There was a lock on the door. I cut it off, but the door was stuck. I pushed it open with my shoulder and the force made one of the beams in the roof fall. It didn't land on her but some of the embers broke off and fell on her arm."

I stared at the little girl from my vision as Hank moved around in his lab, finding an oxygen tank and mask to strap over her nose and mouth. I listened to Scott and Logan explain what had happened, but I couldn't keep my eyes off her. She had been covered in dirt when I had seen her in my vision, but now she was covered in soot as well. All except for one area; where her arm had been burned.

"Who started treatment on her burn?" Hank asked, scrubbing his hands at his sink.

"Logan did. While I was trying to talk to her grandmother, he took her inside and ran water over it," Scott said.

"Did you continue to treat her while in the jet?" Hank asked.

"Yeah, I kept her arm propped up to keep the swellin' down," Logan said.

"Good, good," Hank said, going back to the girl. He had a bowl of water and a cloth. He cleaned the burnt area once more and then placed a light gauze bandage over it. "Jayden, could you help me wash her? She looks as if she hasn't bathed in weeks." I didn't say anything, I just stared numbly. "Jayden?"

"What?" I asked, my attention finally being pulled from her.

"Could you please help me clean her up?"

"Yes, sir," I said and went to his sink to get a new bowl of water.

There had been very few times in my life where I had had visions of people and then saw them in front of me. My parents were the first. Then Logan. After him it was Scott and Rogue. Then a boy that lived in Boston that Scott and I were visiting. We went to speak to him about the school. But it had all gone terribly wrong, with Scott and me chasing after him in the sewer. While we were down there I had a vision of him being hit by a truck. Less than ten minutes later I watched the real scene unfold before my eyes. And I had frozen then, too. While Scott had run to help him, I stood in the street, staring and unable to move. This time wasn't much different.

I did my best to stay focused and help Hank as Logan and Scott both left to take showers in the locker rooms just down the hall. But my mind didn't seem capable of processing all of the information. So I pushed it all out of my mind and just did as Hank told me. I didn't allow myself to have an emotional connection with her; I just acted in as much of a clinical manner as I could. And in half an hour, we had her cleaned up and put into new, clean clothes. She had been beautiful in my vision, but washed up she was absolutely gorgeous. I just couldn't see how anyone could be cruel enough to hurt a kid, let alone one that looked so innocent.

"You have to give yourself a bit of a break," Hank said where we were sitting in his office.

"What do you mean?" I asked, looking over at him.

"I know how you are, Jayden. And you're beating yourself up over this one. You feel personally responsible for her."

"If I had gotten the right state the first time, she wouldn't be here like this."

"You made a mistake, yes, but you corrected it."

"No, Logan corrected it," I said. "He's Canadian and he knows more about US geography than I do. I didn't even know there _was_ a Portland, Main. I felt like a complete idiot. And because of that, look what happened."

"_You_ did not lock her in a shed. _You_ did not set fire to it. _You_ did not attempt to do anything but save this girl. No matter your mistakes, your intentions were good," he said. "And she'll be fine."

"Physically maybe. But what about emotionally or psychologically?"

"Again, you did nothing to harm her. Any scars she comes out of this with are not your fault. If it hadn't been for you, she would have died."

"And logically I get that," I said. "But it's not easy to accept."

"Perhaps in time you will. Because you do not need to carry around someone else's guilt as your own."

The doors to Hank's office opened with a 'whoosh' and I looked over my shoulder to see Logan and Scott walking into the room. Scott was in pajama pants, Logan was wearing sweatpants, and both were wearing white T-shirts. I could smell each of their distinctive shampoos and soaps from where I was standing.

"Has she woken any?" Scott asked.

"No," Hank answered. "But I don't think it has much to do with passing out from smoke inhalation."

"What do you think it's from?"

"She's been deprived of food for a while, weeks probably. Because of that, your body tends to shut down and doesn't work properly. She's starved and dehydrated, and her body is exhausted. I say that that's why she's sleeping so heavily now," Hank answered. "I have her hooked up to an IV and a feeding tube. I think by tomorrow she should be feeling better and perhaps might wake up then."

"Maybe then she can tell us who she is and we might be able to find some of her family."

"Until then you should all get some rest."

"I'm going to stay. If she wakes up, someone should be here," Scott said.

"I'll stay and take care of it," Hank said. "Go on up to bed."

Scott laughed. "No offence Hank, but you probably wouldn't be the most welcoming sight to a six year old who's terrified enough already."

"No offense taken," he said. "But you have a wife that's waiting for you."

"Well I don't have anyone waiting for me and I'm not scary looking, so why don't _I_ stay?" I said.

"You need to go to sleep. It's nearly one in the mornin'," Logan said to me.

"I can sleep down here in one of the chairs," I said. "But I think I should stay. If she wakes up, she might feel more at ease with a girl being here."

"I agree," Hank said. "And as much as she's been through today alone, she could do with as little stress as possible while coming into this new environment and waking up with Jayden might help."

"And she's my daughter and I think she needs to go to bed," Logan said.

"She's almost twenty, I think she might be able to make her own decisions by now," Scott said with a bit of a laugh.

I heard a low growl in Logan's chest. "I wasn't talkin' to you, Summers, so stay out of it," Logan snapped. "And I'd appreciate it if you stopped payin' so much attention to how old she is."

"This is ridiculous Logan, I was just saying that she's almost twenty, she doesn't need you telling her what to do. She's not a little kid, she's a grown woman."

"And that's another thing," Logan said, turning to face Scott, "keep your eyes _off_ her. I don't care if she's a grown woman or not, I don't wanna catch you starin' at her."

Scott shook his head. "I'm married, Jean's pregnant and I'm going to be a _father_ in a couple of months. I'm not staring at Jayden," he said. "And haven't we had this conversation before?"

"Yeah, and the last time we had it you said you were married then too, but it only took you a few weeks to kiss _my_ daughter on _Jean's_ grave, so excuse me if I don't believe every bull crap lie you feed me."

"Those weren't _lies_," Scott said, his voice rising in defense. "I had no intentions of having that type of relationship with Jayden."

"And you didn't. You led her on and then broke her heart. You think I don't know what you did to her?"

"No, I have no doubt that she told you everything that happened. But she and I have worked it out since then. You're the one that still has a problem."

"Yeah, I do have a problem, 'cause you wanna be with Jean right now but stay close enough to Jayden so that when Jean dies, you got an instant replacement."

Scott swore. "If you _ever_ say that again, I'll blast a hole right through your head. So you better make pretty freakin' sure it's the last thing you want to say."

"And the next time you feel like threatenin' me, you better rethink it, 'cause I ain't got not problem with takin' this outside. I've wanted to sink my claws in you for a long time boy, you keep pushin' me and I'll do it."

"Gentlemen, if you're going to continue arguing could you do it _out_ of my office?" Hank asked. "In case in slipped both of your attentions, the young lady about which you are arguing, Jayden, is standing right here. And I think she's had enough stress for today without having the two of you add to it."

"It's fine Hank," I said. "They don't care that I'm standing here. They're just using me as an excuse to argue like seven year olds. It doesn't matter what it's about." I shook my head. "I'm going to go back in the infirmary and check on the girl. You two can settle this fight without me."

I turned and left Hank's office to go next door. The little girl was still unconscious. I pulled a chair over to the side of her bed and then I took two of the pillows from one of the empty hospital beds and put them by my chair before sitting down in it. It only took a couple of minutes for Logan to come after me.

"What was that about?" he asked, walking towards me.

"I don't know, why don't you tell me? You're the one who started it."

"I didn't _start_ anything," he said, stopping right in front of me.

"Really? Because you didn't help it any. There wouldn't have been any sort of argument if you had just dropped it. But you _had_ to get your opinion in when Scott said I was a grown woman."

He ran his hand over his face. "You're mad at me for takin' up for you?"

"That wasn't taking up for me. That was getting into a fight about me while I was standing right there." I let out a sigh and shook my head. "I'm _so_ over this while situation. I'm tired of people arguing over Jean and Scott and me. I'm over it, I'm done with it, that's it. Why can't everyone else just drop it?"

"'Cause he's screwin' you over and you're lettin' him."

"And if I let him, it's _my_ decision. You can't keep me from making bad decisions. Because Scott's right about one thing; I _am_ a grown up and I _can_ make my own decisions, however bad they may be."

"So I'm not allowed to protect you anymore 'cause you're grown up?"

"I didn't say that."

"Then what did you say? 'Cause that's what it sounded like to me."

"You're my father Logan; I always want you to protect me. But arguing with Scott isn't protecting me, that _hurts_. Especially when it's about how bad I felt after he and Jean go back together. It makes it seem like my whole life centers around it. It makes me feel pathetic."

"You're not."

"But it makes me _feel_ that way," I said. "I want so much to be stronger than what I am. I want to be able to deal with things and move on from them. And every time I try…someone brings up how heartbroken I was. Like that was the worst thing that's ever happened to me. I'm trying to get over it but I can't because no one else will let it go."

"I'll try to stop bringin' it up, then," he said. "But when he hurts you and you come talk to me about it, I don't forget it when you forgive him. I still remember what he did to you."

"I understand that and I'll do my best to not complain about him to you anymore, because I do end up making it worse when I do."

"I don't want you to stop talkin' to me."

I gave him a smile with a little laugh. "Do you really think I would ever _stop_ talking to you? Honestly, you couldn't get me to shut up if you tried."

He cracked a small smile. "That's true."

"Why don't you go to bed? You look like you're about to fall over."

"Are you sure you wanna stay down here by yourself?"

"Yeah, I'll be fine."

"Hank can stay here and call you when she wakes up. You can sleep in your own bed tonight, there's no point in sleepin' in a chair."

"Look, I made a mistake, okay? And I need to make up for it. If that means I have to sleep in a chair for a couple of nights to clear my conscious, then I will," I said. "But I feel like I should do this."

He nodded. "All right." He bent down and gave me a kiss on my forehead. "I'll see you in the mornin'."

"Okay, goodnight. I love you."

"Night darlin', love you too."

I hugged him and he started walking away. Before he left the room, I called out to him. He turned around and looked at me. "What happened to the girl's grandmother?" I asked.

"She died."

"How?"

He just looked at me for a moment before letting out a sigh. "She slit her own throat."

"Why?"

"She was out of her mind, kid. She thought she was doin' everything for religious reasons. She thought she was a martyr."

"Did the little girl see it happen?"

"No," he said. "She was unconscious."

"Good. She shouldn't have to live with that image," I said.

He nodded. "Yeah."

"Goodnight, Logan."

"Night."

I watched Logan walk away before turning my attention to the little girl lying just a few feet from me. I suddenly felt so guilty about how bad I had felt for myself. I thought that _I_ had had a bad day. But she had been locked up and starved for weeks. She had been nearly killed by her own grandmother who had in turn, killed herself. And I had no idea how scared she was going to be when she woke up. Being traumatized the way she had been and then waking up in a completely foreign place must be scary enough. But she was also attached to an IV and a feeding tube and was breathing though an oxygen mask. At six years old, that would have been enough for me to break into hysterics. So I had no idea how a child who had already been traumatized would react, and I prayed I would know how to handle it.

* * *

I woke up to the sound of a small cough. Then I opened my eyes and saw the little girl sitting up in her hospital bed.

"You're the one that saved me," she said.

I blinked at her. "What?"

"You're the one that saved me, aren't you?"

I sat up in my chair and shook my head. "No, I didn't."

"Two big men came and got me, but you told them where I was."

"Um…yeah. How…how did you know that?"

She shrugged. "I just know that you see people like I do."

"What do you mean?"

"I see people when I go to sleep. They're not dreams, they're real. You see that too, don't you?"

"Yeah, they're visions, I have them too."

"Who are those men who brought me here? Are they your friends?" she asked, her sentence ending with a cough from behind her oxygen mask she still wore.

"The one with the glasses, his name is Scott and he's my friend."

"What about the other one?"

"His name is Logan. He's my dad."

"My dad's name is William, but everyone calls him Billy. Except me, I call him daddy."

"Where does your dad live?"

She shrugged again. "I don't know," she said. "Can I take this mask off?"

"I don't know sweetie, I'll have to go ask."

"Who do you have to ask?"

"My friend Hank, he's a doctor."

"Is he the man who looks like Grover?"

"I don't know. Who's Grover?"

"He's on Sesame Street. He's blue and furry."

"Why would you think he looks like Grover?"

"I saw him."

I looked over my shoulder and towards Hank's office. I couldn't see him. "Did he come in here before I woke up?"

"No."

"Then how did you see him?"

"When I was sleeping, I saw him. He fixed my arm. But it still kind of hurts. Do you think he can fix it better?"

"I'll go see," I said, standing up. "I'll be right back, okay? I'll just take a second, I promise."

She nodded. "Okay."

I left the infirmary for Hank's office. He was sitting behind his desk reading 'The Catcher in the Rye'. When I walked in, he put in a bookmark and closed the book before placing it on his desk.

"Is everything okay?" he asked.

"She's awake."

"Is she talking to you?"

"Yeah."

"What did she say?"

"She wanted to know if she could take off her oxygen mask."

"Well I would imagine waking up to that would be quite scary. You can remove it."

"No, it's not scaring her," I said. "She just wants it off."

"But I'm sure she's quite scared being here."

I shook my head. "No. She's extremely calm," I said. "Like really freakishly calm. I mean even _I_ get a little weirded out when I wake up down here and I'm a klutz, so I've woken up here a few times. But she seems totally fine."

"Perhaps she's in shock."

"I don't think so. She and I were talking and she said that she had visions and that she knew I was the one who sent Logan and Scott after her.'

"She told you that she has _visions_?"

"No, she said she sees things when she goes to sleep. But my visions started out only at night when I was her age. I mean, she said she even saw you."

"And I didn't frighten her?"

"No. She said you look like Grover from Sesame Street."

"I always preferred the Cookie Monster, myself," he said with a bit of a smile.

"I think you should come meet her. Judging from her reaction, I don't think you'll scare her."

"Yes, all right," he said. "Why don't you go back to her and take off her mask? I'll phone Charles and have him come down and then I'll be right over."

I agreed and left the room. When I went back to the infirmary, she was still sitting up in her bed, waiting for me.

"Good news, I can take your mask off," I said, smiling at her.

"What's your name?" she asked as I turned off the oxygen machine.

"It's Jayden," I said. "What's yours?"

"Abigail. But my daddy calls me Abby. You can call me that too if you want."

"Thanks," I said, moving to take the mask off her face. "How old are you, Abby?"

"I'm five, but I'm almost six. My birthday's in August."

"So is mine," I said with a smile.

"How old are you going to be?"

"I'm going to be twenty."

"That's a long way from six."

"Yeah, it is."

"What are you going to do for your birthday?"

"I'm not sure."

"Aren't you going to have a party?"

"Probably not. I've never really cared too much for parties."

"I _love_ parties," she said, pushing the hair out of her face with her boney hand. "Last year my mommy gave me a Disney Princess party. It was a lot of fun. I got to dress up like Cinderella."

"You remind me more of Snow White."

She laughed. "Snow White lives in the woods with animals! I don't live with them."

"I see," I said, nodding. "But you do live with talking mice, though, right? And you have a fairy godmother?"

She let out another giggle. "No, that's silly," she said. "Real mice don't talk."

I smiled. "Well I've never seen any," I said. "But I need to ask you a question, okay?"

"Okay."

I sat down in my chair beside her bed and leaned in close to her. "You said that your mommy gave you a birthday party last year. But do you know where she is now?"

"She's dead."

"Oh, I'm sorry."

"It's okay. She's in Heaven now."

"Do you know when she died?"

"I don't know. I was in school and we were making paper flowers for Mother's Day when my teacher told me that she died."

"I hate to keep asking you about it sweetie, but do you know _why_ she died?"

"She was sick. She had cancer. Daddy said she just went to sleep and woke up with the angels."

"You know, my mom had cancer and she died, too."

"When?"

"Christmas Eve."

"Did she go to Heaven, too?"

"I don't know," I said. "Maybe."

"What was her name?"

"Bridget."

"What was her last name?"

"Joan."

"So your name is Jayden Joan?"

"No, it's Jayden Rivers."

"I like that."

I smiled. "Thank you," I said. "What's yours?"

"Gafferty."

"Does your dad have the same last name as you?"

"Yeah. And he gets mad when people don't say it right."

"I bet."

There was a light 'buzz' and then Hank's voice came over the intercom by the door. "Jayden, may you come to my office? I need to speak with you for a moment."

Abby let out a sigh. "You're awfully busy, aren't you?"

I smiled at her. "It'll just take a second, okay? And then I'll be right back."

She nodded. "Okay."

I gave her another smile and excused myself from the room. When I got to Hank's office, the Professor, Scott, Jean and Logan were all there. "Well you all got here fast. Are we having a party?" I asked jokingly.

"No, we were just all concerned," Jean said, no hint of humor in her voice.

"How is she doing?" Scott asked.

"She's doing very well. She hasn't complained about her IV or her feeding tube. She just asked me to take her oxygen mask off and said that her arm still hurt."

"What have you been talking about? Has she mentioned anything about her family?" Hank asked.

"Yeah. She said that her mother's dead, she died in May from cancer. She also said she has a father that's a live and his name is William Gafferty."

"Did she say where he lived?"

"No. I asked her earlier and she said she doesn't know."

"Did you ask her mother's name?" Scott asked.

"No, I didn't think it was right to push it. She was polite but I know she doesn't want to talk about it."

"Well you should ask her. If you have her first and last name you can call the hospitals in the Portland, Main area to see if they had any patients with that name that died in May," Scott said.

"That would be too many hospitals. Not to mention that doctor-patient privileges would keep them from telling us that," I said. "Pushing her would be pointless."

"Do doctor-patient privileges still come into account after the patient's dead?"

"I'm not sure."

"What if it's to find her only living relatives? They might not have to follow that."

"No, Jayden's correct," the Professor said. "There's no possible reason why they would break those privileges unless they had a court order. There needs to be another way."

"Can't you just read her mind?" Logan asked.

"At her age I wouldn't. Getting into the mind of an adult is difficult enough as it is. Reading the mind of a child is far more difficult," Xavier said. "I would rather not have to put her through that unless it's absolutely necessary."

"You don't think it's necessary to find her father?" Jean asked.

"I do, but in a different way."

"I think you should try talking to her about it again," Scott said. "She seems to trust you."

"Yeah, all right. I'll see what I can get from her," I said, then turned around and went back to the infirmary. "I'm back."

"Who were you talking to?"

"Some of my friends."

"You have a lot of friends."

I smiled. "Yeah, I'm pretty lucky."

She let out a sigh. "When do I get to go home?"

"We're trying to work that out, but we're having a bit of a problem."

"Why?"

"Well," I said, moving to her bed and sitting on the edge of it. "We don't know where your home is."

"It's in Portland. That's where you found me."

"Was that your home? Where you were at when my dad came and got you?"

She shook her head. "No, that was my Grammy's house," she said, her voice suddenly sounding small and scared.

"Where did you live before then?"

"With my mommy."

"And when she passed away you went to live with your Grammy?"

"I don't want to talk about her."

"It's okay sweetie, you don't have to," I said. "But what about your dad? Did he not live with you and your mom?"

"No, he lived in a different house."

"And where's his house?"

"Portland."

"Do you know where in Portland?" She shook her head. "Okay. Do you know the name of the school you go to?"

"No."

"You don't remember anything about the name?" I asked and she shook her head 'no' again. I ran my heading over my face. We weren't getting anywhere.

"Are you mad at me?"

"No," I said, shaking my head. "I'm not mad. I'm just trying to figure out how to get you home to your dad."

"Can't you call him?"

"If you tell me his phone number I can, yeah."

"I don't know his number. I just press eight on my mommy's phone and it calls him. Can you do that on your phone?"

"No, it has to be programmed into it, sorry," I said. "Why don't we talk about your mom, okay?"

"Do we have to?"

"No, but I just want to know her name."

"Why? She's dead. I don't want to talk about her."

"I know it's hard sweetheart, it's hard for me to talk about my mom too, but if you give me your mommy's name I might be able to find your dad."

"How? They don't live together and she's dead, I told you that," she said, her voice shaking. "Why does it matter?"

"Because I need all the help I can get so that when I find your dad, I know it's him for sure, okay? I know it's _really_ tough to talk about her, but I just need her name. Then we can stop."

"It's Marianne."

"And she has the same last name as you and your daddy?"

She nodded. "Yeah."

"Okay."

"Is it okay if I have something to eat?"

I smiled at her. "Yeah, anything you want."

"What about oatmeal and blueberries, but not strawberries, because I'm allergic."

"Okay. I'll go get someone to make you some oatmeal."

I stood up and started walking back towards Hank's office. "Jayden?" Abby called out.

I turned around to look at her. "Yeah?"

"You're _supposed_ to call Tony," she said.

"Excuse me?"

"Your friend Tony, you're supposed to call him. I thought you would figure it out, but I guess not."

"What do you mean I'm supposed to call him?"

"He can help you find my daddy."

"Why do you think that?"

She shrugged. "Because I saw it."

I nodded and forced a smile. "Okay, I'll call him."

I left the room for Hank's office once again and found that everyone was still there.

"Is everything okay?" Scott asked.

"Yeah, she just wants some oatmeal with blueberries, but no strawberries because she's apparently allergic to them."

"That's it?" Jean asked, sounding unimpressed.

"No, she also gave me her mother's name."

"But what are we going to do with that? Like you said before; we can't call the hospitals," she said.

"No, but I think I might be able to locate him with that."

"How?"

"I have connections," I said. "But I think someone should go talk to her. She doesn't seem to like being alone."

"I'll go speak with her," Xavier said. "Perhaps you should come too, Henry. She may need you to explain everything you've done so far."

"I agree," he said. "Could one of you make a bowl of oatmeal for her while Charles and I are speaking with her?"

"Yeah, I will," Jean volunteered.

"Do you mind if I use your phone Hank?" I asked.

"No, feel free to call whoever you need," he said as he and Xavier left to go into the infirmary.

"Who are you going to call?" Jean asked as I walked towards Hank's desk.

I fought the urge to say 'Ghostbusters' and did my best to stay serious. "Tony."

"Can he get access to personal information in Maine from California?" Scott asked.

"I don't know. But he's not in California."

"Where is he?"

"Here," Logan said.

"Wait, he's _here_? In New York?" Scott questioned.

"Yeah," I said, picking up the receiver of Hank's phone and began dialing his number. "Westchester to be exact."

"Why?"

"He's living here now," I said as the line on the other end was answered.

"De Luca, yeah."

"Tony, it's Jayden."

"Did you call to remind me of how big of a jerk I was last night?"

"No."

"Well you should, because I was. And I'm sorry."

"Don't worry about it," I said as Jean gave Scott a kiss and then left the room.

"So are _you_ apologizing?"

"No, should I?"

"No, but I was just curious. I thought women had rules about not calling so long after a fight."

"I wouldn't know. No one ever really told me there were rules about that sort of thing," I said. "But that's not why I called."

"Why did you then?"

"I need a favor."

"What kind of favor?"

"You know that little girl my dad and I were talking about last night?"

"Yeah, the one you said someone was trying to kill and you didn't know if she was in Oregon or Maine?"

"Yeah."

"The one we started our argument over?"

"Our argument didn't start over that," I said. "It started when you were questioning the school."

"Well, either way, I'm sorry," he said. "But what's the favor you need?"

"She's here and we need to find her home. The only problem is, she doesn't know _where_ she lives, other than Portland."

"What do you want me to do?"

"I need you to locate her father."

"What's his name?"

"William Gafferty, her mother's deceased but her name was Marianne, the little girl's name is Abigail and they both share the same last name as the father. She said that he didn't live with her and her mother, but she didn't say why."

"What was the mother's C.O.D.?"

I thought for a second, racking my brain for what C.O.D. stood for. Suddenly it clicked and I realized it meant 'cause of death'. "She had cancer, but she didn't say what kind."

"When did she die?"

"She said it was around Mother's Day, so in early May."

"What's the girl's age?"

"She's five but she said she'll be six next month."

"Is she an only child?"

"She didn't say, but I think so. The only other thing she mentioned was that they _all_ lived in Portland. I couldn't get anything else from her about her family. She didn't want to talk about it."

"And you just accepted that?"

"After what she had been through, yeah."

"Okay, look, this is going to take me a little while to work on, all right? Because I can't file this as a real case, I'm going to have to call in a few favors of my own. But I'll see what I can do."

"Thank you, Tony."

"Don't worry about it," he said. "I'll figure out a way for you to pay me back."

"If you find her home, I'll buy you dinner."

"Is that a challenge, Miss Rivers?"

"Oh yeah."

"Good. I like challenges," he said. "I'll call you later, okay?"

"Yeah, thanks. Bye."

"Bye."

I hung up the phone and looked at Logan and Scott, the only two left in the room. "He's on it, so we'll see how it works."

"What argument were you talkin' about?" Logan asked, his arms crossed over his chest.

"What?"

"You said that your argument started 'cause he was questionin' the school. What argument was that?"

"We had a bit of a fight last night, it wasn't a big deal. We were both tired and I was upset. You know how I get when I'm cranky."

"What was he questionin' the school about?"

"Well not the school _exactly_."

"Then _what_ exactly?"

I leaned back against Hank's desk and mimicked his stance by crossing my arms over my chest. "He wanted to know what we did here that would warrant any kind of right to go on a mission to find Abby."

"And what did you tell him?" Scott asked.

"I told him that we're a legitimate school and we teach kids."

"What else did he say?" Logan asked.

"Look, I didn't tell him about the team. I've never told anyone and I really don't plan on ever telling anyone," I said. "But he gathered enough from what we were talking about to assume you've done this more than once. He called you a vigilante."

"Well I got a few things I'd like to call him, too," Logan said.

"He just doesn't understand. He's a mutant, but he works for the government. It's completely different for him."

"He's a _mutant_?" Scott asked.

"Yeah."

"How do you know that?"

"Because he _told_ me," I said. "Is it really hard to believe he is one?"

"What does he do?"

"It's called geokinesis. He can harden molecules like rock."

"I know what geokinesis is," Scott said. "And being a mutant and being employed by the government shouldn't be an excuse to call _us_ vigilantes. He should know more than anyone that the law isn't even or fair when it comes to mutants." He shook his head. "He should be glad that someone's doing the job he's not. He should be the one going to Maine to save kids, not us."

"Duly noted," I said. "Does anyone mind if I take a shower and put on some proper clothes real quick?"

"No, Hank and the Professor are keeping Abby busy and Jean's making her some breakfast, so she should be fine for now," he said. "I don't think anyone would mind you getting cleaned up."

"Okay, I'll be back in a bit."

"Why don't you get something to eat while you're up there, too? You're gettin' too skinny again," Logan said.

"Yeah, I'll grab something," I said, walking towards the door and pausing beside him. I gave him a kiss on the cheek. "Thanks for letting me stay with her."

He kissed the top of my head back. "You did good with her, kid."

I left Hank's office and took the elevator to the first floor. When the doors slid open, Jean was standing there holding a tray with a bowl of oatmeal with blueberries on top and a glass of milk.

"Do you need me to carry that back down for you? It looks a little heavy," I said.

"If you don't mind, yeah. My back is killing me."

I took the tray from her as she stepped into the elevator with me. "Well you only have a couple more months left," I said. "Too bad it has to be during the hottest months of the year though, eh?"

She smiled. "Yeah," she said. "Do you plan on having kids when you get older?"

"No. No kids for me."

"Why not? You've been really great with Abby today. I was actually a bit surprised."

"I'm good with kids, I just don't want any. The world's a little too messed up to bring anyone else into it."

"You could always adopt."

"We adopted kids have our own problems, too," I said. "I just don't think I'm cut out to be a parent. I'm not really the motherly type."

"Things might change when you get older."

"Yeah, maybe," I said as the elevator door stopped at the bottom level.

The doors slid open and I moved to take a step out when Jean pulled me back in and closed the doors.

"I need to talk to you for a minute, Jayden."

"Okay. Why don't I take this to Abby and then we can go somewhere and talk?"

"Because I don't want Scott to know that I'm talking to you."

I stared at her for a moment. She was wearing a T-shirt that stretched across her huge, round stomach which her hands were cradling, as if trying to hold the baby up. Her gorgeous red hair was pulled back into a ponytail with a few strands surrounding her face. Her eyes were focused on me and I could feel emotions I didn't want to feel coming from her.

She was scared.

"Why don't you want Scott to know you're talking to me?"

"Because I don't want him to worry. So please don't tell him about this."

"I won't," I said. "What do you need to tell me?"

"I'm dying."

"I know."

She gave me a weak smile. "I thought Scott would probably tell you."

"He was scared; he needed someone to talk to. It didn't mean anything."

"No, it _does_ mean something," she said. "Because he _can_ talk to you. He _trusts_ you, Jayden. That means so much to him. You mean a lot to him."

"Well he means a lot to me, too."

"He won't let me see everything that he went through while I wasn't here, but I know he had a pretty tough time. And I know you helped him through that. You have to understand that Scott's not the type of person to just open up to people, he's been through a lot and because of that he keeps himself guarded. But the fact that he opened up to you, that's special."

"I know it is and it's not something I take lightly. I know how he feels and it's not easy to let people in. He's helped me open up, too. I didn't seek Scott out to help him, but he's my friend and I just did what I felt he needed me to do."

"I know," she said. "And that's why I need you to help him when I die."

I shook my head. "I don't want to talk about that, Jean."

"But I _need_ to," she said, staring into my eyes. "Hank gave me two years at the _most_. But Scott's clinging to eternity, which isn't going to happen. I'm going to die."

"Why are you telling me this?"

"Because I need you to be there for him when I do."

"I can't -"

"Jayden, just listen to me," she said, her voice demanding. "I'm not going to live much longer and I need to know that no matter what, someone's taking care of him. And the baby."

"Jean people who've been diagnosed with life threatening disease and have only been given a week to live have gone on to live _years_. You have just as many chances as they do. _More_, actually. You're a doctor and you live here with Hank who's a genius. This can be sorted out; you just have to give someone time to figure it out first."

"Jayden, we don't get along very well, I understand that and I understand _why_. You're mad because I came back and took Scott away from you and I don't like the fact that the two of you are as close as you are. But no matter what I personally feel for you, you're a smart girl. And we both know that this isn't going to get sorted out. I know you're not naive enough to believe that I'm going to stay around for much longer. You can feel that, can't you? You _know_ I'm dying. So let's be adults and not pretend that everything's going to be okay."

"What do you want _me_ to do? I don't know how to help him, I don't know how to take care of a kid."

"The baby I'm not worried about. Storm and Hank will take care of her. But you do know how to help him. You know how to get him to talk. You can pull him through this."

"I don't get it. You hate me because I'm too close to him-"

"I never said I hated you. I just don't necessary like what you do," she said. "Or the way you look at me."

"How do I look at you?"

"Like you want me to die already."

"For a mind reader, you sure suck at knowing what people are thinking. I don't _want_ you to die, Jean," I said. "I'm in love with your husband. I have been for almost two years. And I don't want to see him get hurt. But this, you _dying_, that's going to hurt him. I look at you like I don't understand how you can't see how much he loves you."

"I _do_ know how much he loves me."

"You just don't feel the same."

"I love my husband, Jayden, but things are different now. I've changed," she said. "You can't possibly understand."

"So if I don't understand, why are you asking me to do this?"

"Because you _do_ love him. And I know that it doesn't matter what happens, you're always going to keep him from getting hurt. So I want you to just do your best to keep him standing after I die. He trusts you and he loves you, and he's going to need you," she said. "I need you to promise me that you're going to take care of him."

I stared at her for a long moment, not saying anything, then I finally nodded my head. "Yeah, I promise."

"Good," she said, putting on a smile and taking the tray away from me. "Thank you for carrying this down."

"Yeah, you're welcome."

"Are you going to your room?"

I nodded. "I need a shower."

"Are you coming back down once you're done?"

"Yeah, I just need to get cleaned up."

"Well you can stay up there if you want. I'm sure we can handle Abby by ourselves," she said, stepping out of the elevator.

"I know," I said. "But I promised her that I would be back. And I don't like breaking my promises."

She gave me a smaller, more genuine smile and nodded. "Okay, I'll tell her that you'll be back soon."

I pressed the button for the elevator doors to close and watched them slide shut. Then I pressed the button for the second floor. Once the elevator cart was going, I pressed the emergency stop button, and the cart stopped. I slid down the wall and sat in the floor.

Everything inside me was so scared and angry and frustrated. I buried my hands in my face and tried to keep myself from crying. So instead, I screamed. I didn't know what else to do. My emotions were too tangled, no words would come out. I wanted to just wake up and have everything be a dream. But I couldn't. It was reality and I was wide awake.


	11. Finding Home

Disclaimer: I don't own the rights to X-Men or Marvel. I hope ya'll enjoy this chapter, though.

* * *

After my mild breakdown in the elevator, I continued on to my bedroom. Once I got there, I went straight to my bathroom and turned on the cold water. I slipped out of my pajamas and stepped into the shower, right under the freezing cold water. It stung my skin but it felt good. It helped to wake me up and get me focused. Unfortunately I wasn't in there long enough to really enjoy it. I washed up quickly and dried off before getting dressed. I pulled on a pair of blue jean shorts and a T-shirt with an Orange Crush logo on it and then brushed my teeth. I didn't bother with my hair; I just dried it a bit with a towel and then left for the kitchen.

I met Bobby on my way down.

"Rouge said you guys found the girl you saw in your vision," he said as I joined him on the stairs.

"How did she know?"

"Logan told her."

"Well, yeah, she is here. She's down in the infirmary."

"I know, Scott just called up from there and said that she wanted to know where you were."

"What did you tell him?"

"I said I would tell you if I saw you. I was actually on my way to the kitchen to find you. He said you might be in there."

"I'm just going there now," I said. "I have to grab some breakfast first. Are you going down to the infirmary?"

"For a minute, yeah."

"Do me a favor and tell them to tell Abby I'll be down in just a few minutes, okay?"

"Abby's the little girl, right?"

I gave him a look and blinked. "No, Abby is the pet name I gave to Hank's desk, mind telling her I'll be down in a second?" I said sarcastically and rolled my eyes.

"I always called her Bessie-Lou," he said with a grin.

"You're such a dork, Bobby," I said, letting out a laugh.

When we got to the bottom of the stairs, we both went opposite ways. He headed towards the elevator and I went towards the kitchen. Once there I made a peanut butter sandwich and grabbed a bottled water. And then I started downstairs. By the time I got there, I had nearly eaten all of my sandwich and had chugged down half my water.

"That was fast," Scott said as I walked into Hank's office. He was standing there with Jean and Bobby.

"Where's Logan?" I asked.

"Rogue had something wrong with her car; she asked if he would go fix it for her," Scott said.

"How's Abby?"

"She's okay. She was just wondering where you were," he said.

"What did you tell her?"

"I told her that you went to take a shower and that you would be back soon."

"What did she say?"

"She said okay, but she wanted to see you when you got back," he said. "And then she told me that I looked like Prince Charming from Cinderella."

I smiled. "You do sort of look like a Disney prince."

"Well I've never gone running around New York in tights."

"You're about to have a daughter, so that's _all_ going to change," I said, stuffing the rest of my sandwich into my mouth.

"Did you make _your_ dad dress up in tights?"

I shook my head. "I never made him. But I went to a party once dressed as a princess, I didn't want to go by myself, so he went as my frog prince. Tights and all."

"Maybe she'll be into football, then."

I took a sip of my water. "Maybe," I said. "I'm going to check on Abby."

"Wait and I'll come with you," he said. He turned to Jean. "Why don't you go lie down for a bit? It's hot and you look tired."

"Are you sure you don't want me to stay?"

"No, I think Jayden and I can handle it," he said. "And Bobby; Logan and Rogue are upstairs now, so if you think the three of you and Storm can handle the kids, we'd really appreciate it. But right now Abby needs our attention."

"Yeah, it's no problem," he said. "We can handle them."

"Good," Scott said, then gave Jean a kiss. "Go up to bed. I'll come check on you in a little while, okay?"

"Okay. Good luck," she said. Then she and Bobby left together.

I looked over at Scott. "How is she?"

"She's okay," he said.

"She's been sick a lot lately."

"Hank says it's the heat. Once it cools down she should be fine."

I nodded. "Good."

He pulled his gaze from the door and looked over at me. "I'm sorry about the argument last night. I should have kept my temper and I didn't. I'm sorry."

"Don't worry about it. It's not like Logan was the epitome of calm, either. Not that he ever really _is_ though," I said. "And he said a few things you had a right to get mad over."

"That's another thing; if I _ever_ made you feel like I was using you as a replacement for Jean, I apologize. You've been so good through this whole thing; I never wanted you to feel used."

"I'm not mad at you and you don't make me feel used," I said. "That was just Logan being protective of me."

"Maybe he had a right to be. The whole thing reminded me of the argument we had a few months ago."

"What argument?"

"The one after you came back from Florida. When I got mad at you for talking to Jean about us and you said it was my fault for not talking to her about it myself."

I shook my head. "I barely remember saying that," I said. "But what does that have to do with what Logan said?"

"You told me that I couldn't have my life both ways. I couldn't be with her, but only talk to you. And I felt stupid because I didn't even realize I was doing that." He raked his fingers back through his hair. "I thought maybe I had made you feel like I was using you without realizing it," he said. "So I'm sorry if I did."

"You didn't. I'm well aware of my place in this situation and I'm okay with it," I said. "I want nothing more than to be with you, Scott, I'm still in love with you and nothing's changed that. But you're my best friend, and I'm doing my best to be there for you when you need me. Nothing else matters. I just want to be here."

He nodded. "Thank you."

I gave him a small smile. "Let's go check on Abby."

Things had changed since that discussion with Scott where I told him he couldn't use me. Where he told me that Jean was dying. Yeah, there were still times where I felt it would be better if he talked to her instead of me, but I knew that by talking to me, it meant that he trusted me. In let me in where he had pushed everyone out. Just like Jean had said. And because of that, I didn't complain about it anymore. If he needed to talk to me, I was open.

But that wasn't the only thing that had changed. I had. Without noticing it, I had grown and gotten stronger in just those few months. Jean's impending death had made me rethink what was really important. And my pride wasn't part of it. I knew that most of the school probably thought I was crazy to still be friends with Scott after how much he had hurt me. But what doesn't kill you makes you stronger and I was proof of that.

The past year alone had been enough to drive me mad. But it hadn't. It had come close, but not quite. The August before had been when I had had the vision of my own death. And before that my rape, torture, and the loss of my left leg. Waking up from it had left my terrified and paranoid.

After that had been the fusion of the insane girl's energy with my brain, which only further fueled my fear and paranoia, and made me suddenly terrified of death.

Next my parents got a divorce, I found out that my birth mother had cancer and then, at the end of the year, she died. Going to her funeral brought no solace as I hadn't felt much more than anger for her to begin with, but being in Canada _had_ brought me to the man behind a series of gruesome murders, and in turn brought me face to face with my own death. And it was then when I stopped being scared. I fought back and I survived. I found out that I was stronger than I knew.

After that traumatic ordeal, I came home. I wanted nothing more than to just be with my family, to feel comforted by those who loved me, and finally start to pull the pieces of my life back together. But when I came back, when Scott kissed me, what I wanted suddenly took a different turn. Because what I had wanted for a long time had been Scott, and when that was realized, things changed. And the very next day when I watched Jean walk down the hanger of the Blackbird holding Scott's hand, things changed again. For two weeks after that I spent every night crying myself to sleep, locking myself away in my room and trying my best to avoid reality.

It wasn't until the Professor had sent Logan and me to Florida and I was able to take myself away from the drama and pain of the mansion that I finally saw how weak I had been. Everyone had moments of weakness, I knew that, but I had been wallowing in it and I had no excuse for that. So I did what Logan always told me: Stand up, get back on your feet, keep going. And I did.

I barely remembered the conversation I had had with Scott in his classroom just before he told me that Jean was dying. But maybe that was for the best. Because I wasn't the same person anymore. And I wasn't going back to that person again.

* * *

"And this is my classroom," Scott said, pointing out a door to Abby.

We had spoken to her for a few minutes before she asked if she could get out of bed and walk around. Once Hank said it was okay, he unhooked her from her IVs and her feeding tube and let her go with Scott and me. We had showed her most of the first floor and were making our way down the hall when Scott pointed out his room.

"What do you teach?" she asked.

"I teach about cars and how they work."

"Is that all?"

"Well I used to teach the kids physical education, but Jayden's dad does that now."

"What's physical education?"

"It's where you teach about exercise and that sort of stuff."

She looked up at me. "What do _you_ teach?"

"I don't. But I help my dad out sometimes, or Dr. McCoy."

"What does your wife teach?" she asked Scott.

"She teaches math."

"And she's going to have a baby soon, right?"

"Yeah, that's right."

"Is she having a boy baby or a girl baby?"

"A girl."

"What are you going to name her?"

"I don't know. We haven't picked one out yet."

"Why don't you name her Ariel?"

"Why do you think we should name her that?"

"That's The Little Mermaid's name and she's pretty and she has red hair, and you're wife is pretty and she had red hair. Maybe your baby will, too."

He smiled at her. "We'll think about it, then," he said. "You know, I'm craving some ice cream, does anyone else want some?"

"Sound pretty good to me," I said.

He looked down at Abby. "How about you? Do you want some?"

"Grammy says I'm not allowed."

"Did she say why?" Scott asked.

"She said it would make me sick and I would die."

Scott looked at me and I shrugged. "Are you allergic to it?" he asked.

"No."

"Did you ever eat it when you lived with your mom?" I asked.

"Yeah."

"And you never got sick?"

"No."

"Then why would you get sick now?"

"I don't know, she just said I would. She said lots of food would make me sick, so I wasn't allowed to eat them. Even when I'd get really hungry and my tummy would hurt, she said I couldn't."

"You ate oatmeal this morning; did she used to let you eat that?"

"Yeah, but just on Sundays. I wasn't allowed to eat the rest of the week."

I bent down and looked in her eyes. "Sweetie, I think your Grammy was a little confused, okay? That's why she did some of the things she did," I said. "But none of it was your fault."

"She did a lot of bad things."

"I know, but she's not going to hurt you anymore. I promise."

She seemed to think for a second, then nodded. "Okay," she said. "So does that mean I can have ice cream?"

I smiled. "Yeah."

The innocence of youth always seemed to amaze me.

Scott and I led Abby to the kitchen and he scooped her a bowl of ice cream. I was in the middle of scooping my own when Logan appeared in the doorway.

"Kid, outside, now," he said to me.

"Uh, okay," I said. "Excuse me." I put down my spoon and left the room. "What's going on?"

"Did you tell that Tony kid he could come here?"

"No. Why? Is he here?"

"Yeah."

"I didn't tell him to come over. I thought he was going to call," I said. "Where is he?"

"Bobby said he sent him up to your room."

"Okay, would you tell Scott to put the ice cream up and keep an eye on Abby for me while I go talk to him?"

"Yeah, but I don't want the two of you in your room for long or I'm comin' up there after you, hear me?"

"Yeah, okay."

I left the hall and ran up the stairs. On my way through the student's hall, a group of teenagers nearly ran into me as I turned the corner to go to the teacher's wing. But once I got there, I made my way towards my bedroom. I was nearly there when Storm stopped me.

"There's a young man in your bedroom," she said.

"Yeah, I know."

"His visitation wasn't approved."

"I know that. I didn't invite him over."

"Then why is he here?"

"He's a detective, he's trying to help find Abby's father."

"Who's Abby?"

"She's the girl Logan and Scott rescued last night. So if you don't mine, I need to go speak with him," I said, then gave her a forced smile and pushed past her.

"You have a very clean room," Tony said as I walked into my bedroom. "Like freakishly clean." He smiled at me. "I guess it's good to see that not all of your Martha Stewart ways are gone."

"Logan keeps his room this clean, but I don't recommend calling him Martha Stewart."

He laughed. "I wouldn't even think of it."

"Not to seem rude, but who let you in?"

"A Dr. McCoy," he said. "And a guy named Bobby told me where your room was. They all seemed to be intrigued that you had a visitor."

"That's because I never have any, and when I do, they're scheduled, like everyone else's."

"You have to _schedule_ visits?"

"Yeah. This is a big school with a lot of students, all of which are mutants. In order to protect the kids who don't want their mutations to be out in the open, they need a fair warning if they don't want to be seen."

"That seems reasonable," he said. "Did you take all of these pictures?" He pointed to my wall full of photos.

"Yeah."

"They're good."

"Thanks," I said. "Did you find Abby's dad?"

"I think so," he said. "Who are all of these people?"

"My family."

"I'm your family, why am I not up there?"

"Because I don't have your picture."

He nodded. "Why don't you take it now?"

"Why don't you give me the information you have on Abby's father?"

"Why don't you take my picture and then I'll tell you what I know?"

"Fine," I said. I moved over to my desk and grabbed my camera. I took off the lens cover and turned it on. "Okay, are you ready?"

"Do you want me to pose?"

I shrugged. "Do whatever you want."

He smiled, flashing his bright white teeth. "How's this?"

I laughed. "Very original," I said, then clicked the button. The flash when off and then I lowered the camera. "Done. Now tell me what you found out about Abby's father."

He walked over to me as I put the lens cover on my camera and placed it back on my desk. He handed me a folder and I flipped it open. "I found six different William Gaffertys in the Portland, Maine area, all with at least one daughter her age and with a wife that's either deceased or divorced," he said. "I have write ups on all six of them and a photo ID sheet she can use to identify them if one of them is her father."

"This is great, thanks," I said, looking at the folder for a moment longer before finally handing it back to him.

"You didn't throw my flowers away," he said, looking at them in the vase on my desk.

"No. Why would I throw away perfectly good flowers?"

"I thought you were mad at me?"

"I was. But I wouldn't take it out on them."

"But you tried giving them back to me last night."

"But you didn't take them, so it doesn't count," I said. "Look, I'm going to go downstairs and show this to Abby. Do you want to come with me or are you busy?"

"No, I don't have anything to do," he said. "I'd love to meet her."

"Really?" I asked skeptically.

"Yeah, I love kids."

"Seriously?" I asked with a raised eyebrow. "You _love_ kids?"

"Yeah, they like me, too."

"It probably has something to do with you being on the same maturity level as them," I joked.

"Probably," he said with a smile.

"All right, come on then."

I led him out into the hall and began walking away when I heard a door open. "Jayden?"

I turned around and saw Jean standing in her doorway. "Yeah."

"Is everything okay?"

"Yeah, everything's fine. Why?"

"I heard you talking to someone but I didn't recognize the other voice," she said. "Is this Tony?"

I nodded. "Yeah," I said. "Tony, this is Jean, Scott's wife."

"His, it's nice to meet you," he said with a smile.

"You too," she said. "Did you find anything out about the little girl?"

"I think so. I have some photos that she can look through and see if any of them are your father. If not then I'll get back to work on it."

"Well we really appreciate you doing this for us," she said. "We're very lucky that Jayden knows you."

"Yeah, lucky girl," he said, ruffling my hair with his hand.

"Get your hand off my head De Luca, I'm not a puppy," I said.

"Yes ma'am," he said, grinning at me.

"I hope you feel better Jean," I said. "But we should probably go check on Abby."

"Okay. It was nice meeting you, Tony."

"You too," he said, giving her a smile as I pulled him away. "So she's married to Scott, who's the guy you're in love with. Right?"

"Yeah," I said as we were going down the student's hall.

"So I guess that means you _didn't_ tell him how you felt about him."

"Actually, you're wrong. I did tell him."

When Tony and I had gone on our only _real_ date the year before, he had walked me to the door at the end of the night. He was leaning in to kiss me when Scott interrupted us. Tony figured out that I was in love with him and when Scott went back in, Tony suggested I tell him how I felt. I had protested it, but it was pointless. It had come out anyway, whether I wanted it to or not.

"When did you tell him? After he got married?"

"No, I told him after our date."

"And he still married someone else?"

I looked at him as we started down the main staircase. "What did you expect him to do? Drop on his knees and propose to me?"

"That would be one option, yeah," he said. "Men over thirty very rarely get a chance to have a young and beautiful girl tell them that they're in love with them unless they're after money. But to have someone who's young, beautiful and _smart_, that's like the trifecta. You don't turn that down. Unless you're gay. Is he gay?"

"He's married and his wife is pregnant, so I would think not, no."

"Well why else would he marry another woman, then?"

"Technically he was married to her before."

"I thought you said his wife died?"

"Well, we thought she did."

"How do you _think_ someone's dead?"

"It's a long and complicated story, but she went missing and everyone thought she had died. But they found her at the beginning of the year. She's been here ever since."

"That's slightly odd, but okay," he said. "How do you feel about that?"

I shrugged. "You can't lose what's never yours. So I'm okay with it, I guess."

"You're telling me that you're in love with him but you don't care that he's with another woman and she's having his baby?" he said. "Don't you want to have his babies?"

"I don't want to have _anyone's_ babies, thank you very much," I said. "But if you want me to be honest, I find it quite honorable that Scott went back to his wife. Too many men would trade their older wives in for someone younger."

"So you're saying not only does it not bother you that the man you're in love with is married still, or again, or…whatever, but you're _happy_ that he's not with you?"

"I totally didn't say that, but okay."

"Well you _kind_ of said that," he said as we neared the kitchen.

"It doesn't matter what I said. If Logan catches you talking to me about it, he'll get mad."

"Really?"

"Yeah, and trust me, you don't want to piss him off anymore today."

"It's about time you got down here, I was just comin' after you," Logan said as Tony and I entered the kitchen.

"Sorry, Jean stopped us in the hall," I said.

"Is she okay?" Scott asked.

"Yeah, she just heard me talking to Tony; she didn't know who he was."

"You look different without your eyes bloodshot," Logan said, staring at him from where he stood, leaning up against one of the cabinets, his arms crossed over his chest.

Tony laughed nervously. "I'm sure I do," he said. "You're Logan, right?"

"Yeah. You're Tony?"

He nodded. "Yes sir," he said. "It's nice to actually meet you."

Scott laughed as he wiped Abby's face with a wet paper towel to clean off the chocolate syrup that was smeared on the corners of her mouth. "I don't know if 'nice' is the word you really want to use," he said.

Logan growled, I heard Tony swallow nervously and Scott let out another small laugh. I just sighed and shook my head.

"I _told_ you you were supposed to call Tony," Abby said.

"Uh, wait…" Tony said. "She told you to call me?"

"Yeah."

"You didn't call because you wanted to?"

"Don't get your feelings hurt. I was still mad at you, but how am I supposed to argue with her telling me that?"

"Well how did she know you knew me?"

"Because I saw you," Abby said simply.

"Where?" he asked her.

"When I was asleep. I saw Jayden call you. You helped her find my daddy."

"You saw me in a dream."

"No," she said, shaking her head. "They're not dreams."

"They're visions," I said.

"Right," she said, nodding.

"Okay, so you saw me in a vision then," he said. "What did you see?"

She shrugged. "Jayden called you but her daddy and Mr. Summers weren't very happy about it."

"Sounds about right," Logan muttered.

Tony let out another nervous laugh. "Right," he said. "So you already know my name is Tony. Are you Abby?"

"My real name is Abigail but everyone calls me Abby."

"Well I've got some good news for you, Miss Abby. I have six pictures that I need you to look at, okay? And I need you to see if any of them are your dad. Can you do that?" he asked and she nodded. He flipped open the folder he was holding and pulled out the ID sheet before walking over to her. He placed the sheet down on the table in front of her. "Do you know any of them?"

She looked over them for a second before her face broke out into a smile. "That's my daddy!" she said excitedly, pointing to the last picture.

"Okay, very good job," he said. "We're going to get to work on finding him for you, all right?"

"Can he take me home with him so I can live at his house?"

"We don't know," Scott said.

"Why not?"

"Yeah, why not?" Tony asked.

"We need to know why you weren't living with your dad to begin with," Scott said. "You were living with your Grammy. Why?"

She gave another shrug. "When mommy died, Grammy said that daddy couldn't take care of me, so I went to live with her."

"But why couldn't your daddy take care of you?" Scott asked.

"Grammy said when mommy died, daddy got really sad and had to be by himself for a while. I asked if I could call him and she said no."

"Where's your Grammy?" Tony asked.

"I don't know," she said. "But I don't want to go back to her. Please tell me I don't have to."

"You won't have to go back to her sweetie, I promise," I said. "And right now Tony and I are going to try to find your daddy, all right? So stay here with Mr. Summers and I'll see you in a little bit, okay?"

She nodded. "Okay," she said. "But when you talk to my daddy, can you tell him that I really miss him and I hope he's not so sad anymore?"

I smiled. "Yeah, I can tell him that." I left the kitchen with Tony beside me, but it took me a moment to notice Logan behind us. "What are you thinking?" I asked him.

"That her grandmother was outta her mind crazy and that I wouldn't be surprised if she killed her father, hid the body and told her that he just couldn't take care of her."

"I wouldn't doubt it," I said.

"What are you gettin' from all of it?"

"I'm not getting any negative energy from her dad. She seems to genuinely love her parents. There's nothing I'm getting from this situation that says we shouldn't call the man she identified as her father."

"You sure about that?" he asked.

"Don't start doubting me Logan or I'm going to do the same thing."

"I just want to make sure we're not sendin' her somewhere worse than where she already was."

"Her dad didn't have a rap sheet and there's never been any complaints brought against him from what I could find. He's clean as far as paper goes," Tony said. "What kind of situation was she in before?"

"A bad one."

"She was living with her grandmother who was starving her and had her locked up in a tiny shed behind her house that she set on fire while she was in it with the intentions of killing her. So yeah, like Logan said, a bad one."

"Where _is_ her grandmother?"

"She's dead," Logan answered.

I felt Tony tense slightly. "How did she die?"

"She slit her own throat."

"Really?" he asked, sounding unconvinced.

"Yeah, really," Logan said. "And don't take that tone with me again, kid. Just 'cause I _can_ kill someone doesn't mean I always do. But keep it up and I might make an exception."

"Logan -" I started.

"Don't worry about it darlin', I'm leavin'. I gotta go get a part for Rogue's car," he said. "But I'm gettin' everyone to keep an eye on you till I get back."

"Got it," I said. "Be careful."

He left and went towards the garage as I kept leading Tony to the Professor's office.

"He doesn't like me very much, does he?"

"Nope," I said. "But I wouldn't take it too personally. He doesn't like most people."

"Yeah, but he threatened to kill me."

"No he didn't. He just said he could make an exception if you kept hinting around that he _did_ kill people," I said. "He never said he _would_ kill you."

"Close enough. He insinuated it."

"One thing about Logan; he doesn't insinuate. If he was going to threaten you, he would have made it very clear that's what he was doing. All he was doing was trying to scare you a bit."

"Well it worked."

I laughed. "Good. I'll have to tell him. It'll make him think more of you," I said as we reached Xavier's office.

I didn't even know on the door before he called us in. "Hello Jayden," he said as we walked into the room. "This must be Tony."

I nodded. "Yes, sir," I said. "Tony this is Professor Xavier, he owns the school."

"It's nice to meet you," he said.

"Likewise," said the Professor. "Is there anything I can help you two with?"

"Yes sir, Tony found Abby's father. I thought you might like to call him."

He smiled. "Absolutely."

* * *

The Professor contacted Abby's father, told him that she was at the school and her father, Billy, explained why she hadn't been living with him. His mother had been ill and he had moved in to help take care of her. He thought Abby would be too fragile after watching her own mother die to move in with someone else who was dying, so he let her grandmother take her, assuming she would be well taken care of.

When Xavier told him about how she had been living, he broke down into tears. He said he would do anything to get to her as soon as he could, but didn't think he could until the next day.

So Abby stayed the night. And she insisted that I stay with her. I didn't argue and once again slept in the chair beside her bed in the infirmary. The next day she didn't leave my side. Everywhere I went, she went too. And when anyone suggested leaving me and going with them, I felt her panic immediately. So Hank called into work and told them I was sick and couldn't come in and I stayed at home with her.

At around four that afternoon, Abby and I were in the rec-room coloring in a coloring book I had asked Logan to buy for her the day before. I thought he was going to kill me when I said she wanted a Princess book, but he bought it for her anyway. So we were coloring and eating cookies that Hank had baked for us, and talking.

"Jayden," she said, coloring a picture of Sleeping Beauty, "you see things like me too, right?"

"Yeah," I said, taking a yellow crayon from the box on the table. "Why?"

"Sometimes I see bad things. Do you see them, too?"

"Unfortunately so, sweetie. It comes with the visions. You just can't let them bother you."

"But sometimes I see people being really bad, like to little babies. And they didn't do anything wrong, did they?"

"No."

"Then why would they hurt them?"

"I don't know," I said. "I wish I did, but I don't."

Listening to her talk about that made me sad. One of the worst things about being clairvoyant wasn't so much having your mind bombarded by other people's thoughts and emotions. It wasn't having to see into another time, whether you wanted to or not, because that's where your mind took you. The hardest part was the loss of innocence. By the time I was her age, I had seen people die and I knew exactly how she felt. It was confusing to someone at such a young age to try to rationalize death, murder, evilness. Even as an adult it's hard to do. But when confronted with it at her age, it was tough. And I wanted so much to tell her it would get better, that she would see good things that would outweigh the bad, that eventually that wouldn't bother her.

But I couldn't because it wasn't true. Her visions would more than likely get worse, especially by the time she reached puberty, when most mutants discovered their powers. They would also get worse because the more she saw, the more likely it was to be of horrid, evil things. And even though she _would_ see some good things, they wouldn't outweigh the bad. Because it was the bad one that stuck with you. They were the ones you saw when you closed your eyes to sleep.

It made me sad to look at her because I worried she would let the bad things get to her, destroy her. Mostly I was sad because she reminded me so much of myself at that age.

"Jayden." I looked up and saw Scott standing in the doorway. "Abby's father is here," he said as a man walked up behind him.

"Daddy!" Abby yelled excitedly, jumping up. She ran to him, he picked her up and she threw her arms around his neck. "I missed you."

"Oh I missed you too, baby," he said. "I'm sorry sweetie, I'm _so_ sorry."

I stood up and moved over beside Scott. "Daddy, this is Jayden. She's the one that saved me."

Her father moved her around until one of his hands was free and he stuck it out to shake mine. "Thank you so much, I don't know how I can ever repay you."

I shook my head. "I don't want anything," I said. "Just do me a favor."

"Anything. Whatever you want, just name it."

"Don't leave her. You have a _very_ smart daughter, if you just explain to her what's going on, she'll understand. But she really needs you."

He nodded. "I know she does and I won't leave her again," he said, kissing her forehead. "I promise I won't ever leave her again."

"Good," I said. "And Abby, it was very nice meeting you. Thank you for letting me hang out with you for the last day and a half."

"You're welcome."

"Be good, all right?"

She nodded. "Okay."

"If you go back the way we just came and go to the left you can find Professor Xavier's office again. I'm sure he would like to speak to you before you leave," Scott said, pointing down the hall.

"Wait," I said, going back to the table where Abby and I had been sitting. I took the coloring book and crayons and gave them to her. "These are hers."

"It's fine, she has enough at home."

"Well my dad bought it for her and he wasn't so keen on buying a Disney Princess book, so he's probably be a little upset if he found out she left it here."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah."

"Her daddy doesn't like princesses," Abby said. "He said if a movie doesn't got John Wayne in it, he doesn't want to watch it. But I don't know who John Wayne is."

"He's an actor sweetie," he said, then looked to Scott and me. "Thank you so much, both of you. I mean it."

"You're welcome," Scott said. "It wasn't a problem at all."

Then we both gave them smiles, said goodbye to them and watched them walk away. Once I couldn't see them anymore, I let out a heavy sigh.

"Relieved?" Scott asked.

"Far from it."

"Are you worried about her?"

"A little, yeah."

"Do you think he's going to hurt her or something?"

"No," I said. "But she's a sweet kid, I just don't want anything to happen to her, you know?"

He nodded. "Yeah, I know," he said. He looked over at me. "You were really great with her, you know? I mean, you surprised me."

"Well I told you I was good with kids."

"Yeah, but I didn't realize you really meant it."

I shot him a look. "You thought I was _lying_?"

"No, but I've seen you with the kids here."

"The kids here are teenagers, Scott. It's not the same," I said. "I told you that my parents used to sign me up to teach at cheerleading camp during the summer."

"You didn't say it was for younger kids, though."

"It was. And six year olds shouldn't be doing that sort of stuff. They should be running around and playing, which is usually what I had them do," I said. "It's also probably why I was asked to not come back."

"Well, you did very well, Rivers. I'm impressed."

I gave him a short smile. "Thanks. You weren't too bad yourself, Summers," I said. "You're going to make a great dad."

He smiled back at me. "Thank you."

And I had no doubt about it: Scott Summers was going to make a fantastic father. I just hoped that Jean could be around long enough to see it.


	12. Whispering

Disclaimer: I don't own the rights to X-Men or Marvel. But hopefully ya'll will enjoy this chapter!

* * *

"Wake up, kid," Logan said, shaking me. "Time to get up."

"Go away, I don't want to get up," I mumbled, my face buried in my pillow.

"Too bad, you're gettin' up anyway. We gotta go, come on."

I lifted my head and cracked my eyes slightly to look at him. "Where do we have to go?"

"Out to eat."

"Are you freakin' serious? Why?"

"'Cause it's your birthday."

"Shouldn't I get to sleep in, then?"

"No," he said. "Now get up."

Three weeks had passed since Abby had been there and left, and soon it was my birthday. I was finally twenty.

I sat up in bed and stretched. "What time is it?"

"Almost nine."

"Can I at least shower before we leave?"

"Can you take one in two minutes?"

"Sure."

"Yeah, go ahead then. I'll wait for you in my room," he said, walking to my door. "And don't go back to sleep."

"I'm not going to."

"Why don't you bring your camera with you? You might see something you wanna take a picture of."

"Are you going to let me take pictures, or are you going to be grumpy about it?"

He smirked. "Both."

"Fine, I'll bring it."

He left and I pulled myself from my bed, then staggered sleepily to the shower. The weather had only managed to get hotter in the last three weeks, and when I got out, the last thing I wanted was to wear heavy clothes. So I pulled out a pair of shorts and a tank top, slid on my flip-flops and hoped we weren't taking the bike or else my feet were going to get burned. I had just gotten dressed when I heard a knock on my door.

"Come in," I called out.

The door pushed open and Scott walked in. "Happy birthday," he said, smiling at me.

"Thanks."

"Do you want your presents now?"

"Dang skippy."

He laughed. "Here, open this one first," he said, hanging me a small, rectangular package.

"Jean wrapped this, right?"

He let out another laugh. "Yeah, can you tell?"

"Well, the wrapping paper isn't all jacked up, so yeah," I said, ripping open the paper to see the present underneath. It was a picture of a gorgeous bath house in India. It was a picture that Scott had had in his classroom for a long time and I had loved it the very first time I saw it. I looked up at him. "I can't believe you remembered that I like this picture."

"Yeah. You wanted to know if it was Heaven."

I felt myself blush. "I forgot about that."

"Well, I asked if we could share the same Heaven. Remember?"

I nodded. "Yeah, I remember."

"Is that offer still open?"

"I don't know what happens in the afterlife, but if we get to choose our own Heaven, then yeah; we can still share," I said. "Besides, what would eternity be like if I wasn't there to annoy you?"

He laughed. "Good point," he said, then went silent for a moment. When he looked back to me, his face was serious. "What about Jean?"

"What about her?"

He shrugged. "Can she share too?"

"Yeah," I said. "She can share."

He nodded. "Thanks," he said. "Do you want to open your other present now?"

"Sure." He handed me a box and I opened it to reveal black leather. I looked at him with a cocked eyebrow. "Does Jean know about this present?"

"What?" he asked confused. Then I watched as realization sunk in. "Oh, no. No, no, no. It's not what you think. You have to take it out and look at the whole thing."

"Okay," I said, then did as he said and pulled it out of the box. "A uniform? But I already have one."

"No, you have one of Jean's old ones for you to just train in," he said. "This one's all yours."

"I don't understand."

"Logan told you that if you trained hard, after a year you could join the team. I know you're still sort of debating whether you want to join the team or not, but I thought if you decided you wanted to, you should have your own uniform."

I smiled as I ran my fingers over the silver stitching that made up the 'X' emblem on the back. "Thanks," I said, looking back up at him.

He bent down and moved his mouth close to my ear. "Welcome to the team."

* * *

"So what did you get me for my birthday?" I asked Logan, shoving half a pancake in my mouth.

"What're talkin' about? This _is_ your present; breakfast."

After Scott had given me my present, Jean had him go down to the kitchen with her and then Logan and I left. He took me to some diner I had never heard of, but had great pancakes and an awesome thing that was like an omelet, but with everything scrambled together and cheese melted over the top.

"Don't lie," I said, my mouth full. "You went shopping with Marie when I was in California last month."

"I didn't say I bought you anything, though."

"Oh come on, dude, I'm twenty today; you _had_ to get me something."

"Yeah, I got you a pair of wool socks," he said as our waitress came back to our table.

"Can I get you anything else?" she asked. She was a thirty-something Native American looking woman, who seemed out of place working in a diner. She was too pretty to be wearing a waitress's uniform.

"Yeah, I need some more coffee," Logan said, giving her a look that lasted a little too long.

She gave him a smile and then looked over to me. "What about you?"

"I need some coffee too, please."

"Okay I'll be right back with that in just a minute," she said, then left our table.

Logan stared after her as she walked away and I watched him. When he finally took his eyes away from her, he noticed me looking at him. "What?" he asked.

"Do you know her?"

"No."

"So you just think she's hot then?"

"No," he said again.

"Well you're staring at her like it's one of the two."

He shifted in his seat. "She reminds me of someone."

"Who?"

"I don't know."

"Someone you knew before you lost your memory?"

"Yeah, I think so."

"Were you in love with her?"

"I don't know. I don't remember."

"Well I've got to hand it to you Logan; you always did pick attractive women."

"That's how you were made, kid."

I laughed. "I just thought you were desperate and she was drunk."

"No," he said, "it was the other way around."

"Oh, so _you_ were the drunk one?"

"You know, your mother wasn't bad lookin'."

"She was just a little psycho?"

"Yeah, and not the good kind."

"There's a _good_ kind of psycho?"

"Yeah, like me and you."

I nodded. "That's good to know."

"But seriously, your mother wasn't ugly. I thought she was pretty."

"Logan, I don't care what you thought about her -"

"Just let me talk."

"Fine. You thought my mother was pretty but crazy. Continue."

"I know you're still kind'a pissed at her for what she did."

"And you told me once that I had a right to be pissed at her for it."

"You do," he said. "I just don't want you to hang on to it for too long. You need to be happy, kid."

I gave him a small smile. "Logan…I've forgiven my mother. I did that a while ago. I realized that if I keep holding onto grudges from the past, I can't ever move forward. So yeah, sometimes I'm still pissed at her, but I'm not hanging onto anything. I'm pretty happy for the most part."

He nodded. "Good," he said. "I'll be back in a second; I gotta go to the toilet."

He got up and went off to find the restroom. After he was gone, the waitress came back with a pot of coffee. She filled both of our cups up and gave me a smile. "Did I hear you say it was your birthday earlier?" she asked.

"Yes ma'am."

"So did your brother take you out for breakfast as your present?"

"My brother?"

"I'm sorry, isn't that the man you're with? You look so much alike, I just assumed he was your older brother."

"No," I said, "he's actually my dad."

"Wow, he doesn't look old enough to be your father."

"Yeah, well, he's a lot older than he looks. He just ages well."

She smiled. "If we were all so lucky," she said. "Can I get you anything else?"

"Not right now."

"Okay, I'll be back in a little bit to check on you."

"Thanks."

I watched her walk away and wondered who it was in Logan's past that she reminded him of. He was over a hundred years old, but he only remember the last twenty something years. So much of his life was lost, trapped in his own mind. A lot of it he didn't need to remember, like the experiments that Stryker and his men performed on him. But despite all of the bad he suffered, I knew there were great moments, genuinely _happy_ ones, buried beneath all of the loss. And those were the ones I wished he could remember.

Logan was a good guy, not always a nice one, but he was good. He talked about not wanting me to hang onto my anger for too long so that I could be happy, but if anyone deserved to be happy, it was him. He had earned it, and I wanted that for him. But no matter how much I wanted it, I couldn't give it to him. I felt the rage boiling inside him, ready to spill over at a moments notice. He was the greatest man I had ever met, but he was also the angriest. And as much as he had a right to be angry, I wanted to take it all away from him.

I saw Logan exit the bathroom and I zeroed in on him, focusing my attention on the emotions I felt from him. He was content, but that was far from happy, and I worried about him.

"Are you happy?" I asked once he was seated across from me once again.

"What?"

"Are you happy?"

"Why are you thinkin' about that?"

I shrugged. "I just want to know."

He sat back and studied me, then he let out a sigh before nodding his head. "Yeah, I'm happy."

"_Really_ happy, or just like you're saying you are so I'll shut up?"

He smiled. "There ain't nothing I could tell you to get you to shut up, so there's no point in me lyin'."

I laughed. "That's very true."

"Why do you think I wouldn't be?"

"I don't know. You're not exactly the settling down type, so I just worry that you would rather be living in Canada and -"

"Stop," he said, he voice demanding. I closed my mouth immediately. "How long have we been doin' this?"

"Doing what?"

"Havin' this discussion. A year and a half, almost two years?" he said. "When are you gonna believe me when I say that if I didn't wanna be here, I wouldn't?"

"I know that. I just can't help but think that you would be happier somewhere else."

"I wasn't happy before I got here, what makes you think I'd be happy if I left again?"

"I don't know."

"Look, I know I left you when you were younger, but I didn't do it 'cause I didn't want you. I did it 'cause I thought your mother could take better care of you than me. It wasn't 'cause I didn't love you, I've told you that."

"I know you love me, I don't doubt that."

"Then why would you think I'd want to leave you here and go to Canada?"

"Wait…what? I never said anything about you leaving me here. Dude, if you're going to Canada, I'm going _with_ you. You can't get rid of me. I was just saying that you've taken me how many times to run away from the school? Like, six, or something? I just wanted you to know that if you ever want to run away, I'm with you."

He nodded. "I'll keep that in mind," he said. "Now eat the rest of your food and let's go."

It took me about fifteen minutes to finish the rest of my food and coffee. But when I was done, the waitress brought me over an ice cream sundae, on her, for my birthday. So Logan sat and waited for me to finish it before he paid and we left.

"I think you should start cage fighting again," I said as he pulled out onto the highway.

He looked over at me. "Why?"

"Well, the team hasn't had that many missions this summer; I think you might need another way to get your aggressions out."

"What? You think I'm aggressive right now?"

"A little, yeah," I said. "It's not a bad thing, though. I just think you might do well to get out a bit more and, you know, beat the crap out of a few guys. And hey, if you make a few extra bucks doing it, that's not such a bad thing, really."

"Yeah, 'cause then you could go shoppin' more," he said, giving me a smirk.

"I make my own money, thank you very much. If I want to go shopping, I'll use it."

"Right, except for the fact that you don't spend that money. You're savin' it up to pay back that quack doctor."

"Well yeah. He paid for the first year of my college tuition, and I didn't even finish. So I think I should pay him back at least some what."

"You're a heck of a lot better person than me, kid."

I gave him a look. "That's a load of bull. You would do the exact same thing."

"Maybe."

"Anyway," I said. "Going back to what _I_ was talking about; you should get back to fighting again. It's something you enjoy, right?"

"Sure," he said, sounding slightly unenthusiastic.

"What? You don't like fighting anymore?"

"No, I'm just wonderin' why you're tryin' to get rid of me."

"I'm not, why do you think I am?"

"I don't know, you wanted to know if I wanted to go back to Canada and then you want me to get back to fightin' again, which takes up most of the night." He looked over at me. "You tryin' to get me out of the house so you can bring someone home without me knowin' about it?"

"Who in the world would I bring home?" I asked. "And if I didn't want you to know about it, I would have to do a lot more than just get you out of the house. Besides, what would I _do_ with someone if I brought them home?"

"Nothing. Absolutely _nothing_. As far as you're concerned, kissin', huggin', sex, it's all bad, so never do it."

"Well I'm afraid to say that I've hugged quite a few people in my day, but I've only kissed two and I've never had sex."

"Good, don't."

"It's a perfectly natural thing."

"Not for you it's not."

"I'm not saying I'm going to run out and sleep with the next guy I see, but yes, in my lifetime it's probably going to happen."

"Not if I got anything to do with it you won't."

"I really don't think you get much of a say in it."

He looked over at me again and swore. "Go ahead and think that darlin', but eventually you're gonna find out that ain't true."

I rolled my eyes but smiled. "Whatever."

Logan and I drove around for hours. He would stop every once in a while to let me take pictures of random things I saw. And he didn't complain once. It was nice to get to spend the day with him. Logan and I always spent a lot of time together, but it was usually at the school and there were always other people who could interrupt us. But to get to be out, just the two of us and no one else was great. We would talk for a while, finding something, _anything_, to argue about, and then we would be silent, not talking for long periods of time. Not because we were mad, but because he was comfortable in silence and I was comfortable enough with him to not feel like I had to talk constantly. After a few more hours we found another diner to eat lunch at before going home. By the time we got there, it was late afternoon.

"I'm sorry, but I completely disagree," I said to Logan as we walked in from the garage.

"You can disagree all you want, you're still wrong."

"No I'm not, I'm right."

"How do you get that Donald Duck's better than Daffy Duck?"

"Because Daffy has a speech impediment for one."

"So does Donald," he said. "And one thing I never understood is why he only wears a shirt, but when he gets outta the shower, he puts a towel around his waist. It doesn't make sense."

"It may not make sense, but at least his cartoons weren't racist."

He shot me a look as we continued down the hall on the way to the kitchen. "He wasn't racist, what cartoon were you watchin'?"

"Some of the earlier cartoons of him and Bugs Bunny are of them acting like African Americans picking cotton."

"That's not racist; it's just not politically correct."

"Okay, so because Daffy Duck isn't politically correct, you think he's better than Donald?"

"No, I just think Donald sucks," he said with a grin.

We kept walking towards the kitchen and when we got there, I saw Hank. He was icing a cake.

"Happy birthday, Jayden," he said. "I wasn't expecting you back until later. I'm not quite done with your cake yet."

"It's fine. It looks great."

"You did say you wanted chocolate cake with chocolate icing, yes?"

"Oh yeah."

He laughed. "Did you and Logan have a nice time today?"

"Yeah," I said. "Even if he doesn't always know what he's talking about."

"Have the two of you been arguing, then?"

"No, I've been tellin' her the truth, she just doesn't believe me," Logan said, taking a Dr. Pepper from the refrigerator.

"I don't believe you because you're wrong," I shot back. "And can you please hand me a Coke?"

"Yeah," he said, taking out another can. "But ask McCoy; he'll agree with me."

"Fine," I said. "Hank, who do you think is better: Donald Duck or Daffy Duck?"

"Well, I've always been a fan of Daffy myself."

"See, I told you," Logan said, handing me my canned Coke and giving me a wink. "And McCoy's supposed to be the genius in this house."

"I take it you're a fan of Donald, yes?"

"Yeah," I said. "Because I'm right."

"Jayden, you have a phone call," Scott said, walking into the kitchen.

"Hello?" I said after I took the phone from him.

"Happy birthday, sweet pea," my dad said.

I smiled. "Thank you, daddy."

"Have you had a good day today?"

I sat down on one of the stools and popped open my Coke. "Yeah, it's been nice."

"What did you do?"

"Logan took me out to breakfast and then we drove around for a few hours. I got to take some nice pictures, though."

"I heard about your photography. Some people say it's very good."

"Like who? No one there has seen any of my pictures."

"Apparently your mother has. She called to ask if I had seen any of them yet. I was kind of curious as to what all the fuss is about."

"They're not that great. I mean, they're okay, I guess. It's just something I like doing."

"You saw enough art growing up to know what makes a good picture and what doesn't. If you wanted to be a photographer I'm sure you would be great."

"Thanks."

"Maybe you could send me some copies. I'd like to see what you've been up to."

"Yeah, I'll try to do that."

"And why you're at it, why not send me a picture of you? The newest ones I have are at least a couple of years old. I need some of you with your new haircut so I can show off my little girl. Who's all grown up now."

"I'm hardly grown up, daddy. I still watch cartoons while eating Count Chocula in the morning."

He laughed. "Well it's good to see not everything's changed."

"Yeah, I guess."

"So do you have any plans for tonight?"

"I think I'm just going to hang out here."

"Did anyone buy you a cake?"

"No. Actually, Dr. McCoy is making me one."

"Is he a better cook than your mother?"

I laughed. "Yeah, he's a much better cook than mom. Although it doesn't take much."

"No, but she tried."

"Unfortunately."

"Oh, did you ever get the present I sent you?"

"No, I haven't gotten it yet."

"Well, it may take a few days to get there. I think I sent it a bit late. I didn't know really what to get you for your birthday, but I hope you like it."

"I'm sure I will."

I heard him let out a sigh. "Okay, well, I'll let you go. I'm sure you're pretty busy, I just wanted to call and tell my baby happy birthday."

"Thank you."

"You're welcome, sweeties. I'll talk to you later. Have a great day."

"Oh, dad, before you go, I just have one question."

"All right."

"Who do you like better: Donald or Daffy Duck?"

"Donald, of course."

I smiled. "Good."

"I love you, baby."

"Love you too, daddy. Bye."

He said 'bye' and then we both hung up and I handed the phone back to Scott.

"Maybe it's an inside joke or something, but what's up with the duck questions?" Scott asked.

"It's not an inside joke, I was just curious about who he thought was better."

"But you were asking Hank the same thing before I came in."

"Do you want me to ask you?"

"Yes."

I smiled. "Okay Scott, who do you think is better?"

"Donald Duck."

I flashed Logan a grin. "Three to two, I win."

"Doesn't count."

"Why not?"

"'Cause Summers heard you, he's just suckin' up."

"I am not sucking up, I just happen to like him better."

"No you don't."

"Yes I do."

"Yes you do what?" Jean asked, walking into the kitchen.

"Like Donald Duck," he said.

She gave him a confused look. "Why does it matter?"

"Because he's cool and Daffy Duck isn't, he's just annoying."

"_You're_ annoyin'," Logan said to him.

"No, I agree with Scott," I said. "Daffy is really grating to watch."

Jean looked at me and then around the kitchen at Scott, Hank, and Logan. "You're all _arguing_ about this?" she asked, still looking confused.

"Yeah," I said.

"Why?"

I thought for a moment and then shrugged. "I don't know. Why not?"

"Well I can understand the men, especially Scott and Logan. I just didn't expect you to be arguing about this, Jayden."

"She's the one that started it," Logan said. "And as far as not expectin' her to be arguin' about this, you obviously don't know her well enough, 'cause she'll argue about anything."

"There's nothing wrong with that. I'm just confident in my opinions."

"Even when it's wrong," he said.

"Well I agree with her. There's nothing wrong with having a bit of a healthy debate every once in a while," Hank said. "Do you not remember how she was when she first arrived here? She barely voiced her own opinion. I'm quite pleased that she feels comfortable enough to express it now."

"No I _don't_ remember her bein' like that, 'cause from the moment I met her she's never had a problem arguin' with me," Logan said. "She's always been a pain."

I smiled up at him. "But you _love_ that I'm a pain. You would miss me if I wasn't around to irritate you."

"I don't know about that, darlin'," he said, giving me a wink.

"Well I could miss you if you weren't here to irritate me," I said. "I mean, I would enjoy the first few months, but I'm sure eventually I would start to miss you."

"All right, the cake is done. Shall we put the candles on and sing now?" Hank asked.

"Why don't we just eat the cake and no one sing?" I said.

"Why don't you want us to sing?" he asked.

"Because 'Happy Birthday' is one of the worst songs ever written. _No one_ can ever sing it in key."

"We could always sing the Denny's birthday song," Scott said with a smile.

"First of all, I wasn't aware that Denny's even had their own birthday song, and second of all, why don't we just skip the singing, eh?"

"At least let me light some candles so you can make a wish," Hank said.

"Why? It doesn't work."

"Well perhaps you've just been wishing for the wrong thing, my dear," he said, grabbing a pack of candles on the counter behind him. He opened them up and began sticking them in the top of the cake. Soon he had twenty placed all around it. "Does anyone have a lighter?"

"Yeah," Logan said, digging into his jean pockets. He pulled out a lighter and then he started lighting the candles.

"Are ya'll fixin' to sing to Jayden?" Rogue asked, walking into the kitchen.

"No, she doesn't want us to," Logan said, nearly done lighting them.

"Why not?" she asked me.

"I just don't see the point in it."

"You ready to make your wish, kid?" Logan asked once he was done lighting the candles.

I smiled. "Yeah."

Hank turned the lights out, I closed my eyes and I thought. I had never been one for birthdays. I never understood making wishes. And I never felt the point of the whole thing. But I closed my eyes anyway.

I thought of a wish and even though I couldn't see the people in the room, I could hear them. Their breathing, their heartbeats. I could even hear the baby's heart inside Jean's stomach.

I could smell their colognes, perfumes, and soaps they had used that day. I could smell the lingering cigar smoke on Logan's clothes. I could smell the chocolate cake in front of me and the burning candles on top of it.

And I could feel them all standing there, watching me. I let the emotions in the room wash over me and I could feel something from everyone one of them. Love, that was the strongest emotion I felt. But there was also pride, happiness, contentment and jealousy twinged with guilt. The last two were from Jean, and despite not being too terribly fond of me, she cared some.

I had never felt as I did in that house. I knew that they truly loved me. And I had never felt that way except there. So I wished for it to always be that way. For me to always remember how I felt that day, in that moment. For all of them to know how much I loved them.

I opened my eyes and blew out all of the candles but one. I looked at it, closed my eyes again, then blew it out.

And I made one more wish: To always have my family together, because I loved and needed them.

All of them.

* * *

"So did you have a good birthday?" Logan asked.

It was later that night and I was in his room, snuggled up to him on his bed, watching 'My Favorite Wife'. It was the present Hank had given me and one of the few Cary Grant movies I had never seen. It was going off when Logan finally spoke up.

"Yeah, it was good," I said.

"Did you like your presents?"

I nodded. "Yeah."

"What about what I got you?"

I looked up at him. "You didn't give me anything."

"I didn't give it to you? I guess it slipped my mind," he said with a smile and a wink.

"You said you didn't buy me a present," I said as he got off his bed and went towards his dresser.

"I lied."

"So what _did_ you buy me?"

"You gotta open it to find out," he said, pulling a wrapped present from his top drawer. He brought it over and handed it to me. "It ain't anything big, so don't get too excited about it, or anything."

I unwrapped it and saw it was a book. And not just any book, but 'The House on Pooh Corner'. I looked up at him. "I don't get it."

"Open it to the last page."

I did as he said and an envelope fell out. I grabbed it but concentrated on the page instead. At the bottom the very last quotes were underlined.

'_You're just in time for the best part of the day,' said Pooh._

'_And what time is that?' Christopher Robin asked._

'_When you and me become we.'_

I looked back up to him. "You remember this?"

He nodded. "Yeah."

When my mother had taken me to the orphanage, just before she left me, she had read that story to me and that line had always stuck with me. When Logan and I were in Canada together the first time I met him, he asked me what I remembered about her. And I told him that I had remembered that.

"Open the envelope," he said, nodding to the one in my hand.

I did as he said and pulled out a letter that was two pages long. The paper was dirty, worn and looked like it had been opened and refolded quite a few times. When I opened it up, I saw my familiar handwriting.

'_Logan,_

_By the time you read this, I'll be gone. I talked to my parents, they're letting me come back home. I wanted to tell you myself, but I didn't think I could and I wasn't sure I knew how. _

_I wanted to thank you for everything. And I mean it. From towing me around for these past few weeks and paying for my half of the motel rooms, to all of the pointless late night talks and all of the advice you've given me. And somewhere in between all of that, I think you save my life a few times, too. So thanks._

_I wanted to thank you for all of the nights you slept on those terrible couches and let me have the bed._

_Thank you for letting me watch cartoons while I ate my breakfast, even though you insisted they were 'stupid' (By the way, I caught you smiling a few times, you even laughed once during 'SpongeBob'). You took up for me and protected me, like no one else ever has before, and I want to thank you for that._

_I want to thank you for all of the times I woke up with a terrible and painful vision and you helped me. You let me cry. You held me. It's a bit late, but I finally realized that it was you who stopped the pain. When you would say my name, it would go away. You saved me from that as well. _

_I wanted to thank you for coming back for me. You're the only person who's ever come back. And I want you to know so much what that meant to me, what it still and _always _will mean to me, but I don't know how to write it down. I don't know how to put it in words. But thank you._

_I knew that eventually I would have to leave. I didn't know if I could ever go back home or not, but I promised you that I would try, so I did. It's not without strings, but I didn't want to let you down. Not after what you've done for me. I never felt part of something. I never felt that anyone understood me. Until you. You were everything that I was inside, but too scared to show. With my family, I've always felt out of place. My thoughts, views, opinions, morels, everything was different from theirs. I thought I was wrong somehow. But then I met you and you believed the same as me. You got it. With you, I didn't have to pretend._

_I had a hard time deciding to leave. I was, and still am as I'm writing this, scared that I'll never find it again. When I counted on everything to break, you didn't. I'm scared that I'll never find _you_ again, but I know that what I'm doing is right. For everyone. I made a promise to you that as soon as I found out why I started seeing you, I would leave. So I am._

_This morning, I had a vision and I saw you. You were with my mother. She was telling you that she was pregnant and you left. Then I saw the two of you together again, in a bathroom. She gave birth to me in a public bathroom stall and you were there. You held me. When I opened my eyes, the first person I saw was you. My father. There were a lot of other pieces in there that put the whole picture together for me, but that's really all that's important. All this time I've been trying to figure out and understand it, when all I had to do was look in your eyes. It was right there all along._

_I wanted to stay with you and that was my first thought. I had finally found someone who understood me; I had found my _father_. But I couldn't do it because I have a family. I have a home. And so do you. As much as I _want_ you, Marie _needs_ you. I don't know her, but I know she loves you and you both need each other a lot. You need to go home to her. She can help you with Jean. You can take care of her. And maybe every once in a while, you can think of me._

_You are sarcastic, and rude, and have the worst temper I've ever seen in my life, and you could use a good haircut, but I'm going to miss you _so_ much. My favorite part of the day was _always_ when you and me became we, because _you_ were where I was happiest. I knew that if I couldn't go back home, it was okay. If I never have _anything_ again, I'm okay. Because you made it all worth it. Thank you._

_With all of my heart,_

_Jayden'_

There was a P.S. but I didn't read it. And my eyes were so blurred by tears, I _couldn't_.

"I uh…" I shook my head. "I can't believe you actually kept this."

The letter was the one I had written him just before I left Canada right after I found out who he was.

"Yeah, well, it's still mine, you can't have it. I just didn't know if you remembered sayin' it or not."

I nodded and handed it to him. "Yeah, I remember it," I said, my voice shaky from crying. "And it means a lot to me that you kept it."

"You think I'd throw it away?"

I shrugged as I wiped away tears from my face with the back of one of my hands. "I didn't know. I didn't write it with the intentions of you keeping it. I just…I had to tell you how I felt before I left."

He moved the book out of my lap, took my hands and pulled me up. I wrapped my arms around his waist and rested my head against his chest. "I know you wonder if I'm happy here, but I am. It doesn't have anything to do with Marie, or Jean, or anyone else. It's 'cause of you. You got that?"

"Yeah, I've got it."

"You're _mine_, all right? _Mine_. You're all I got and I'm not gonna let you go. Even if you want me to, it's not gonna happen."

I laughed, tears still rolling down my cheeks. "I guess it's a good thing I don't want you to then, eh?"

"Yeah."

"I'm glad you're happy with me," I said. "Because I'm happy with you, too."

"Good." He kissed the top of my head. "Happy birthday darlin'," he said. "I love you."

"I love you, too," I said, holding him tighter. "I love you so much."

* * *

Two weeks went by, August came to a close, and the weather was finally started to cool down. To a point, everything was starting to get better.

The last Saturday in August, I walked down to Hank's office late in the afternoon to see him pulling on a pair of his shoes.

"Are you going somewhere?" I asked.

"Yes. Jean asked me to make cupcakes for the baby shower next week. I need to go to the store to buy a few things for the decorations."

"Oh," I said, a little disappointed.

"Were you looking for some company?"

"Yeah, Logan went with Storm on a mission about half an hour ago. I guess I can just wait around until he gets back, though."

"Why don't you come along with me, then? Perhaps I could keep you company until Logan returns."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. Besides, you have a wonderfully artistic eye; you can help me decide what type of decorations would look best."

I smiled. "Okay."

So Hank and I loaded up in my Jeep and we drove to the store. When we got there and began walking in, I realized it was the first time I had been out in public with him. I noticed people staring at us and it took me a few minutes to realize it was because of Hank. I didn't think about him looking differently from everyone else. I didn't see blue skin and fur. To me he was just Hank. But everyone else didn't seem to feel that way.

I saw people looking disgusted, scared, angry and shocked. I could feel hatred rolling off them in waves along with every other negative emotion that there was. I felt all of this running through me so strongly that by the time we finally got inside the store, I was verging on a panic attack. I hadn't had one in months and I fought from having one then. But the amount of horrible thoughts and feelings that were going through me was painful at best. And yet Hank seemed completely unfazed, nearly oblivious. Did he not notice the people muttering curses and insults at him under their breath as they walked by? Or did he just not care?

"What do you think would look the best? Pink or yellow sprinkles?" he asked, holding up two bottles for me to look at.

"I uh, I don't know," I said, finding it hard to concentrate with all of the thoughts rolling through my mind. "What kind of theme, or whatever, is she doing?"

"I believe it's Dr. Seuss. She's using one of the lines from his book 'Horton Hears a Who'."

"What line?"

"A person's a person, no matter how small," he said. "Have you ever read the book?"

"Yeah, when I was younger," I said as a man walked by us.

"Mutant scum. They should round you all up and kill you," he muttered and he passed by.

I turned around to reply to him, to tell him he could stick his opinions on mutants where the sun didn't shine, or I would do it for him. But Hank grabbed me by the shoulder and pointed me back to him before I could even get my mouth open.

"Mind your temper, Jayden. Now's not the time," he said.

"If now's not the time, then when is? Because that man just said we should all be rounded up and _killed_," I whispered back furiously.

"He was referring to me, not you, as he doesn't know that you are one, does he?"

"So you're just going to let people say crap like that to you?"

"Other people's ignorance isn't my problem. And we happen to live in a country where our first amendment says that man, and millions of others just like him, are very much entitled to their own opinion and are allowed to express it freely."

"It also says you have the right to bare arms, but excuse me for not bringing my gun."

"You don't _own_ a gun."

"That is so totally not the point."

"Yes it is," he said. "Because you have a right to carry one as much as they have a right to free speech."

"But we're allowed to stand up for ourselves. Just because someone has the right to say something doesn't mean that we have to take it."

"Other's opinions of me do not determine who I am," he said. "I don't lose my temper because that's exactly what they want from me. I'm well aware of the fact that I look scary and people assume because of that I will be rude and angry. And I'm not going to prove to them that what they say affects me."

"Doesn't it, though?"

"No, because I know that while people like that man open their mouths and spew out their idiotic thoughts and beliefs, I'm maintaining my dignity by not saying a word," he said. "And I happen to value that more than some ignorant, uneducated opinion of me."

"Fine," I said, crossing my arms over my chest. "Whatever."

"Now, which color sprinkles do you like the best?"

I let out a sigh. "What color are the cupcakes going to be?"

"Pink."

I thought for a moment. "Yellow sprinkles."

He nodded. "I like them as well."

And that's how the rest of our shopping trip went. People would say things and I had to pretend like I didn't hear them. Instead I had to concentrate on things like the designs on cupcake holders, the colors of a cupcake caddy, and more things about cupcakes than I ever thought existed, or even cared about. After forty minutes of it, I was tired of looking at anything that involved Jean's baby shower. And by the time we were getting ready to leave I made a mental note that if I ever did have a kid, my baby shower was going to be catered and I wasn't going to be picky about things like cupcake holders.

"Are you ready to leave now?" Hank asked, walking towards the front of the store.

"Yeah."

"Good," he said. "And since you've been well behaved, I'll buy you a candy bar."

I smiled. "Thanks."

We made our way to the front and stood in line. People continued to stare and mutter things. No one would stand near us in the checkout lanes and I just wanted to leave because I was afraid if one more person said something to him, I was going to lose my temper, despite Hank warning me not to. So when we finally got to the front of the line and had our things all laid out and the cashier gave Hank a look that said she wished he were dead, I felt my patients start to go.

"This line's closed," she said.

"You're standing here and the light for your line is on," Hank said.

"This line is closed for you."

"May I was why?"

"Because you're a _mutant_," she spat. "And we reserve the right to refuse service to anyone. Especially you."

"Listen up, sweet cheeks," I started angrily, "you're a cashier, you work in a super market. It's not a political job, so don't try to make it one. Just because you have an opinion doesn't mean you have to express it. Being the most political person in a checkout line is kind of like being the world's tallest short person. It doesn't matter, you're still a cashier. Now if you _still_ want to refuse service for us, then go ahead. That's called discrimination honey, and we can sue over that. We'll get about a million dollars, you'll lose your job and whenever your next employer asks _why_ you were fired, you can just tell them you refused service to a _very_ valuable customer and was charged with a human discrimination law suit. I'm sure it wouldn't be too hard to find a job where the company doesn't care about how their customers are treated."

"We still have the right," she said, not sounding so sure anymore.

"Yeah, you do. We can still sue if you choose that right, though. So you have to decide if that means more to you than keeping your job."

She was quiet for a moment as she seemed to think. "Okay, fine."

She finally rang up all of our items, Hank paid and we left. But as we were walking out into the parking lot, I could tell he wasn't too happy with me.

"You didn't have to say any of that, Jayden. I could have handled it fine on my own."

"I didn't say it because I didn't think you could deal with that moron. I said it because I lost my temper."

"But losing your temper is never going to make them stop hating us."

"Well keeping your temper doesn't seem to be doing much good either, McCoy."

"But there are times when speaking, like when your temper has the best of you, can sometimes make matters worse."

"Sorry."

He gave me a smile. "It's fine, sweetheart," he said. "You were well behaved enough to still earn your candy bar."

I laughed. "Thanks."

We took a few more steps and then I heard a loud 'BANG'. I knew immediately it was a gunshot and it was close by. It was quickly followed by another shot and I fell down to the ground, covering my head. I heard Hank's body fall down beside mine and hoped he was okay. As I had gone down, I hit my head on the side of a car's bumper, then hit the muffler. The corner of my eye stung from the hit and I could taste blood in my mouth from my busted lip. I hoped that since Hank hadn't been next to any cars, he had been able to duck without getting hurt. After a few moments there were no more gunshots, but there was a strong smell of blood in the air and I knew someone had been hit.

"Are you all right, Hank?" I asked, still covering my head. When he didn't answer, I lifted my head. "Hank?"

He didn't move. I pushed myself up and immediately felt dizzy. When my head stopped spinning and my eyes slid back into focus, I looked at Hank and realized that _he_ was bleeding. Every thought, every worry of my own safety flew out of my mind. I saw blood pouring from his left leg and shoulder, forming puddles that were rolling towards me.

"Hank, can you hear me?" I asked, my voice panicked.

But he still didn't answer me. I crawled through his blood and tried rolling him onto his back. He was heavy and it took a few times but eventually I managed to roll him over. He wasn't dead, I could still hear his heart, and he was breathing, but he wasn't conscious.

"Hank, come on, wake up," I said. "Please wake up!" I looked around the parking lot. No one else had been shot, but they were all hiding behind cars, watching me. "Somebody help!" I screamed. "Someone help me, please!"

But they all stayed hidden behind their cars, no one moving. No one helping. And I didn't know what to do. The amount of blood he was losing scared me. Thick, red blood pumped from his body, pouring out onto the parking lot. And I kept screaming. But no one did anything. So I stopped, caught my breath, and tried to pull my thoughts together. I had to do something, no one else was going to help, it was all up to me.

I looked down at his bloody body and thought. He was going to bleed to death; he needed a tourniquet. I stood up fully, feeling dizzy and unstable, but ignored it. Instead I ran to my Jeep and flung open the back door. I dug around in the back seat until I found an old flannel shirt. I grabbed it and ran back to Hank, kneeling down beside him.

"Someone with a phone call and ambulance now, please!" I yelled, taking the shirt and ripping it with my teeth.

I ripped the shirt into two sections and wrapped one around his thigh, just above the gunshot wound at his knee. Then I took the other strip and tied it around his shoulder and placed both of my hands over the wound, putting pressure on it to try to stop the bleeding. My body was reacting but my mind wasn't registering what I was doing. There was blood everywhere, matting Hank's fur, covering my clothes, running through the parking lot. Somewhere in my mind, I kept rationalizing it away. It couldn't be Hank. No one would want to hurt him, to _kill_ him.

Although my mind seemed to be panicking, my body wasn't. It blocked out the fact that one of my best friends was lying beside me, unconscious and bleeding. It kept me moving.

And then I heard the sirens.

Someone had called an ambulance and once it arrived, everything that seemed to be happening in slow motion somewhere far away from me, suddenly seemed to speed up and go too fast for me to understand. People were moving, and yelling, and screaming. Extra EMTs were questioning and taking care of the people who were in the parking lot and had gotten hurt while attempting to get out of harms way after the shots had been fired.

Security guards were searching the area for the shooter, the gun, or any clues they may have left behind.

And as this was all going on around me, I watched as it took six men to lift Hank onto a gurney and load him into the ambulance. I watched as they undid my makeshift tourniquets and tied on new ones. I watched as they tried closing the doors, but I stopped them.

"Wait," I said. "I want to go with him."

"Are you related?" one of the men asked.

"No, but I'm part of the only family he has. Please just let me ride with him."

"All right, come on and climb in. Hurry."

I climbed into the back of the ambulance and sat as the bus lurched forward, moving quickly with its sirens blaring. They kept moving, attaching things, detaching things, and yelling phrases to each other I didn't understand. But I didn't care. I just grabbed Hank's free hand, held it and whispered prayers under my breath that he would be safe.

It took under ten minutes to get to the hospital. As soon as we got there, the men in the ambulance ran Hank straight through the emergency room and right into the O.R. I tried following, but they wouldn't let me.

I stood at the end of the emergency room, scared, shaking and covered in blood. The only reason why I wasn't crying was because I was in complete shock. And right then I prayed harder than I had ever prayed in my entire life that he would just live. I needed him too much for him to die.


	13. Don't Cry

Disclaimer: I don't own the rights to X-Men or Marvel, but oh the fun I would have if I did! (Insert evil laugh here) Please enjoy.

* * *

I sat in the waiting room for an hour. I didn't know what was happening, I didn't know how Hank was, and none of the doctors would come talk to me. And with each minute that passed by, I became more withdrawn, pulling my consciousness away from where I was to concentrate on finding Hank's energy. It was big and warm and just the feeling of it made me smile. But I couldn't find it. So I stared blankly ahead at the white wall in front of me. I could find him; I just had to try harder. This is what I was doing when something blurred the corner of my vision. I blinked and looked up to see a nurse standing beside me.

"Miss, a police officer would like to speak with you," she said.

I stood and followed her down the hall to a room where a uniformed officer was standing. I walked in and sat in a chair that was in a corner. The nurse left and he walked over to where I was sitting.

"I need to ask you a few questions, is that okay?" he asked. I nodded. "Were you with the victim when he was shot?" I nodded again. "Did you see who shot him?" I shook my head 'no'. "Did you see where the shots were coming from?" I shook my head once more. "Do you know how to talk, miss? Because I'm going to need a lot more answers than you just nodding and shaking your head," he snapped.

"She's traumatized, give her a break," I heard a voice say from the doorway. "And you don't need any answers; you're not on this case anymore."

"Who are you?" the officer asked.

"I'm Detective David O'Reily, NYPD and this is my case now."

"This is outside of your precinct."

"We're taking it as a special case."

"No one told me about this."

"Maybe you should call your captain, then. But this is my witness now and I need you to stop intimidating her."

"I'm not intimidating her, I'm trying to get answers, and she's not saying anything."

"Well she doesn't have to," he said. "But you do have to leave."

"I am going to call my captain. If he hasn't heard anything about this, I'm coming back."

He left the room and the detective gave me a smile. "Can I sit beside you?" he asked. I nodded and he pulled a chair up beside me. "I'm Detective O'Reily, can you tell me your name?"

"Jayden Rivers," I said. "And I wasn't trying to be difficult with the other officer, I just…"

"It's okay, I know," he said. "But why don't we start from the beginning, okay? How do you know Henry McCoy?"

"We live together."

"Are you dating?"

"No, we're just friends."

"Do you share a house or an apartment?"

"We live at a boarding school here in town, actually. He's a teacher there."

He was taking notes and stopped to look up at me. "Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters?"

"Yeah, do you know it?"

He gave me another smile. "My younger sister went there about ten years ago," he said. "It's a fantastic school."

I nodded. "Yeah, it is."

"When you were inside the store with Henry McCoy, did you see or hear anything that may have been threatening?"

"Yeah. But Hank didn't say anything to them. He wouldn't let me say anything either."

"Okay. And who were they?"

"The customers, the people walking around the store, even our cashier tried to refuse letting him buy anything. But I told her that if she didn't, we would sue. I didn't mean it, I just got upset."

"Did you hear what the other people said to him?" I nodded. "Can you tell me?"

"They called him a freak, an abomination, uh…" I shook my head. "They said other thing, I just…I can't remember them, I'm sorry."

"It's fine," he said. "I understand that you're scared and worried right now. I just need you to tell me what you can remember, okay?"

I nodded and pulled my arms in close, hugging myself. "Okay."

"Do you remember hearing anyone say anything to either of you that sounded threatening?" I thought for a moment and then nodded. "Okay, what do you remember?"

"Hank and I got into a bit of an argument over something a guy said to him when we first got there."

"What did he say?"

"He was walking past us and called him mutant scum, then he said that they should all be rounded up and killed," I said. "I wanted to tell the guy to go to Hell, but Hank stopped me. He said people were allowed to have their own opinion, no matter how idiotic it is."

"Unfortunately he's right. It's not against the law to be stupid. But not everyone feels that way about mutants," he said. "And I'm not going to let someone who took that free right to voice their own opinion and turned it into aggravated assault, a hate crime and possibly attempted murder and get away with it."

"Okay."

"Do you think you could recognize the man from the store who made that comment if you saw him again?"

"Absolutely."

"So you got a good look at him?" I nodded. "Can you tell me what he looked like?"

"He was late twenties, early thirties. A couple of inches taller than me, so about six feet tall. He was white, had black hair, green eyes and a tattoo on his neck of a Yin-Yang symbol."

"Thank you, this will be very helpful," he said with a smile.

"Do you need to know what he was wearing?"

He looked up from his notepad where he had been writing. "Do you remember anything else?" I nodded again. "Yeah, tell me what he was wearing."

"A gray T-shirt, jeans, black boots and a green jacket that came down past his waist. Before he even said anything I remember thinking what kind of a moron wears a jacket in this kind of weather," I said. "And I think he was left handed."

"Why?"

"He had a watch on his right hand."

"And you remember all of that?"

"Yeah," I said. "I know that eye witnesses aren't the most reliable and you should always take their statements as close to when it happens as possible because they're likely to change over time. And I know that since this happened over an hour ago you think things may have changed in my head, especially since I'm still in a slightly traumatized state. But this is what happened."

"Are you studying law, by any chance?" he asked with a smile.

I shook my head. "Forensics. But I've read a few books on law, so I know that that's what you're supposed to do," I said. "But what I told you about that guy is what I _know_, not remember."

"Okay, and I really appreciate that description and we're going to run it through our database and see if we come up with anything. But right now I need you to tell me what happened once you left the store."

"We walked out into the parking lot. We started walking towards my car, and then I heard the shots."

"Did you see him get hit?"

I shook my head. "No. When I heard the gun go off, I dropped to the ground. I heard Hank fall down beside me. I thought he was ducking out of the way, too, I didn't realize he had been shot."

"He didn't scream or make any noise to indicate he was in pain?"

"No. I heard the first shot, started to duck, heard the second one and then everyone started screaming. But there was only about two or three seconds between them. When I rolled Hank over after realizing he was the one who was shot, I saw his face was cut up. I assumed he hit his head when he fell and knocked himself out. I guess that's why I didn't hear him scream or anything."

"How did you know he was the one who was bleeding?"

"I could smell it. It wasn't too bad at first, so I thought maybe it was someone else. But I asked if he was okay and he didn't say anything. When I asked him again, I realized he was unconscious and raised my head up. That's when I saw he was the one who had been shot and rolled him over. Then I started screaming for help. No one came over so I tried to do everything I could. I asked for someone to call an ambulance and I guess someone did, because after a few minutes one showed up and brought him here."

"Do you remember seeing anyone that looked suspicious after the shooting?"

I shook my head. "I wasn't paying attention to anyone else. Just him," I said. "But the person who shot him couldn't have been in the parking lot."

"Why not?"

"Because Hank was shot in the shoulder. The exit wound was slightly lower than the entry wound; he was shot at an angle."

"Maybe they were behind him."

"Hank's almost seven feet tall. In order for someone to shoot him like that, they would have to be standing on something to make them a lot taller than him," I said. "Like the roof of the store."

He nodded and made notes in his notepad. While he was writing, I pulled my feet up into the chair and hugged my knees to my chest. I put my head down and began rocking back and forth. As I did this, I found myself humming 'I'll Be Seeing You'. I didn't even notice when another man walked into the room.

"Antonio, this is our witness. Her friend was the one who was shot. She was with him when it happened," Detective O'Reily said. "This is my partner, Detective De Luca."

I looked up and saw Tony standing in front of me. It took a moment for him to realize who I was. "Jayden?"

"You know her?"

"She's my step-sister," Tony said. "What happened to you?"

"Nothing. I'm fine," I said. "It's Hank. Someone shot him."

"I just spoke to a nurse, she said they just brought him out of surgery and he's doing fine." He kept staring at me. "What did the doctors say about you?"

"They didn't say anything, I haven't seen one."

He pulled a chair up and sat in front of me. He took my face in his hands and titled it back to look at it better in the light. "You've got some nasty cuts on your face, you should have seen one," he said, letting go of my head. He looked down at the rest of me and swore. "They should have at least let you clean up, you're _covered_ in blood. How long have you been here?"

"I don't know. Over an hour."

He swore again. "Where's your dad? Should he be down here with you?"

"He's not home."

"And no one there could come get you?"

"I haven't called anyone."

"Why not?"

"I didn't think, I'm sorry."

He put his hand on my shoulder and looked in my eyes. "It's okay. I know you're worried about Hank, I'm just worried about you. I'm not mad," he said. "But I need you to stay here with O'Reily. I'm going to go find you a doctor and somewhere where you can get cleaned up and change into some other clothes, okay?"

I nodded. "Yeah."

He stood up and looked over at his partner. "Get her home number from her and call her family. Tell them she needs someone to come pick her up."

Fifteen minutes later, Tony and a doctor named Dr. Cooper led me into an empty exam room. Tony took pictures of me for evidence and then handed me a set of scrubs he had gotten from one of the nurses and a washcloth, then sent me to the bathroom to clean up. When I got there I saw myself for the first time covered in Hank's blood.

And I wanted to cry.

I wanted to, but I didn't. I wouldn't let myself cry. Crying wasn't going to help. It wasn't going to make things better. It wasn't going to change the fact that Hank had been shot and I was drenched in his blood. So I didn't cry.

I pulled off my clothes, shoved them into a bag and started washing myself. I had blood streaked across my face, some was Hank's and some was mine. I had hit my head pretty hard when I had tried to duck out of the way and the area around my eye and mouth had been busted and had dried blood caked around it. My eye was also black and bruised. And I had streaks of blood across my cheeks.

My hands and arms were covered. Even as I tried to wash it off, it left a pinkish tint stained on my skin. I scrubbed but it didn't help. It wouldn't wash off.

I had been wearing shorts and my legs and feet were also stained in blood. Again, some was mine and some was Hank's. My knees were scrapped and cut from being unprotected when I dropped to the ground.

I kept rinsing and wringing the washcloth out, but it didn't do much good. No matter how much I tried, it didn't seem to help. I would rinse the rag out, and then it would just get covered in blood all over again.

It took my nearly twenty minutes to get cleaned up enough to pull on the scrubs and go back out into the exam room. I gave Tony the bag with my clothes in it for evidence and then he helped me up onto the table beside me. I looked up at him.

"I'm going to stay here with you, okay?" he said, putting his hand on my back. "I'm not going to leave."

And he didn't leave. He stayed right there as the doctor examined me. He put a couple of butterfly bandages over the cut by my eye and another one over the cut at the corner of my mouth. He pulled a few gravels from the cuts in my knees and then put some large bandages over them. He gave me some medicine for the headache I had had ever since my adrenaline had worn off. Then he told me I had a mild concussion.

Dr. Cooper was leaving as someone else was coming in. It took me a few seconds to realize it was Scott. Tony helped me down from the exam table as Scott walked over to me and immediately pulled me into a hug.

"Why didn't you have someone call us sooner? Why did you sit down here all by yourself?" he asked, holding me tight. "We could come down here. I would have taken you home, why didn't you call?"

"I don't know," I said. "I'm sorry."

He kissed the top of my head, the pulled back to look down at me. "Are you okay? Did you get hurt or anything?"

"Just a few cuts and the doctor said I have a concussion, but other than that, I'm fine."

"No you're not. I can tell by your eyes."

"It's the concussion, it's-"

"No, it's not," he said, cutting me off as he shook his head. "It's something else."

"She's still in shock," Tony said. "It's normal for people who've witnessed crimes like this to family or anyone they're close to, to become traumatized after seeing it. She should be fine in the next few days."

Scott ran his hand over my head and kissed the top of it again. "I'm so sorry, I had no idea," he said, then looked over at Tony. "Did she call you?"

"No," he said, shaking his head. "I'm working this case. I took it because I knew there was a mutant who had been shot, I didn't realize who it was, though. When I got here, my partner was taking her statement. All I did was found a doctor to look at her and some clothes to change into."

"What was wrong with her other clothes?"

"They had blood on them. She was covered in it," he said. "We need them for evidence."

"Do you need her anymore or are you done taking her statement?"

"No, we're done for now, you can take her home."

"I don't want to go home. I want to stay here with Hank," I said.

"Jean and Xavier are with him. He's going to be fine," Scott said.

"I want to see him."

"I told you that I spoke to a nurse when I came in," Tony said. "She told me he probably wouldn't wake up until tomorrow. Why don't you wait and see him then?"

"Because I want to see him now."

"Jayden, visiting hours are over for today. They only let Jean and the Professor in because they needed to speak to them about how to handle his medical bills and when they'll be able to release him."

"So we're just going to leave him here all by himself? I can't do that," I said.

"We're not leaving him by himself. They're staying and I'm taking you home."

I thought for a moment. "Is Logan there?"

"No, but I talked to Ororo; they'll be home tomorrow."

"Did you tell him what happened?"

"No, I spoke to them before I knew about it."

I looked up at Tony. "Will you call me if you find out anything?"

He nodded. "Yeah."

"Do you promise?"

"I promise if we find out anything new, I'll call you," he said. "But why don't you go home right now, take a shower, and get some sleep?"

"What if you need me tonight? Maybe I should go down to your station with you."

"Jayden, I want you to listen to me; we're going to be working all night just to get through all of the statements that the other officers took from the witnesses at the store. If we need anything from you, it'll probably tomorrow morning or afternoon."

"What if I helped? I could go through the statements with you."

He shook his head. "No, I'm sorry, you can't help us. We have to do that ourselves," he said. "But you should go home and sleep. If we need you we're going to need you rested, okay?"

"I just…I don't want to go home without him."

He nodded. "I know. But the doctors are going to take care of him. You have to trust them."

"But what if they don't treat him right because he's a mutant?"

"They will," Scott said. "Jean and Xavier won't let them mistreat him. They're not going to want to cross a pregnant redhead." I still wasn't sure though and he could tell. "Come on, I'll buy you some dinner and a pint of Half Baked, okay?"

I let out a sigh. "Yeah, all right."

So we left. Scott bought me dinner and ice cream like he promised, but when we got home, I wasn't hungry. Instead, I went straight to my room for a bath. I scrubbed over every inch of my body, trying to clean myself and doing my best to get every last trace of blood off me. When I got done, I dried off, pulled on one of Logan's old T-shirts he had given me and a pair of pajama pants. Then I went back out into my room. Scott was standing by my bed.

"Is everything okay?" I asked.

"Yeah, everything's fine. I just got through doing bed checks with Rogue and Bobby and thought I should check on you, too."

"What time is it?" I asked.

"A little after nine."

I shook my head and let out a sigh. "Sorry, I'm just a little confused."

"It's probably the concussion, they can do that."

I walked over to my bed and sat down. "I don't know. Maybe it is. But everything seems confusing right now. It's like…_so_ surreal, you know?"

"Yeah, I know."

"How could this happen?"

"The world's not always as accepting of things they don't understand. They get scared and feel threatened," he said. "I'm just sorry you had to find out how cruel they can be like this, though."

"I know they don't like us, I've _always_ known that, but… It's Hank, you know? He's like a freakin' teddy bear, dude, how could anyone hurt him? How can you just shoot someone? How could anyone like that be allowed to even own a gun? They're scared of _us_ but they're the ones running around trying to kill people," I said, my voice rising with anger.

"It's not always that simple."

"What if he dies?" I asked, looking up at him."

"He won't."

"How do you know? You weren't there; you didn't see how much blood he lost. It was _everywhere_."

"I know," he said, sitting on the bed beside me. "What you have to understand about Hank is that he's something called a 'free bleeder', he bleeds more than what's necessary, even if the wound's not that bad. I've seen him like that before, when he used to be on the team. You have no idea how many times he's only nicked himself and it looked like he's cut himself open."

"But this wasn't a 'nick'; he was _shot_."

He nodded. "I know," he said. "But he's going to be okay. Hank's tough, he's pulled through things like this before, he can do it again."

"Then why am I so scared?"

He put his arm around my shoulder. "Because you love him," he said. "And it's never easy to watch the people you care about get hurt."

I shook my head and clinched my jaw to keep myself from crying. He pulled me close to his side. "He's going to be fine, sweetie, he's going to be just fine."

I looked up at him. "But what about me? I'm _not_ going to be okay, Scott. I have never been so terrified in my whole life. And now whenever I close my eyes, I see it. I see him lying there on the ground, unconscious. I can see the blood, I can _smell_ it. I can still feel it on my hands. While I was there, I could hear his heartbeat and I kept wondering…" I stopped and shook my head again. "I wondered what I was going to hear it stop."

"Jayden, I can't tell you not to worry about it. But I can tell you that the doctor told Jean and Xavier that you did an absolutely amazing job taking care of him until the ambulance got there. I know that's not going to make anything better and it's not going to make you feel any less scared. But there's nothing you should feel guilty about. You did everything you were supposed to do," he said. He kissed the side of my head. "Why don't you go to bed? You need to get some sleep."

"Will you stay with me?"

He looked down and nodded. "Yeah," he said without hesitating. "I'll stay."

My bed was made up, but I didn't feel like getting under the covers. Instead I pulled a thin blanket over me and lay down as close to my wall as possible as Scott got up and turned my light out after shutting my door completely. Then he walked back to my bed, sat down and pulled off his shoes.

"Is it raining?" he asked, lying down beside me.

"Yeah."

"When did it start?"

"About five minutes ago," I said, looking at him in the dark. "Did I ever tell you that it was raining when I met Logan?"

"No, was it?"

"Yeah," I said. "I had run away from home a week before I found him. I hitched rides all the way to Edmonton and thinking back now, I can't believe I was stupid enough to hitchhike. But I did. And by the time I got there, I was so tired because I hadn't slept any. I wouldn't fall asleep in the cars with the other people. I was too scared to, but when I finally got on my own, it was just in a parking garage. I stayed two nights there and then I left. It was September and cold because it's Canada and it's _always_ cold there. Then it started raining. I just ducked into an alley to get out of it, that was all, but while I was sitting there, he came out," I said. "If it hadn't started raining, I would have missed him."

"But how did you know it was him?"

"I had seen him fifty, maybe sixty times in visions. So I knew what he looked like. But I didn't see him. I felt him. I was going to just tail him for a bit and get used to the fact that it was really him. But there was a slick spot and I fell. I knocked myself out and when I came to, Logan was bent down, looking at me."

"That's how you busted your head open, right?"

"Yeah, which is where that lovely scar came from," I said. "After I told him that I had been looking for him and he saw that I was bleeding, he let me go to his hotel room with him to get cleaned up. But it was raining so hard, he let me stay the night."

"And you stayed with him after that?"

"No, he made me leave the next day, but I found him again a week later. He told me to leave him alone and I went outside, where it was still raining, and sat. When he saw me out there, he said something changed his mind and he let me go with him. It kept raining the whole time we were there," I said. "It finally stopped the day I left."

"So is the rain a good or bad memory?"

"It should have been a bad memory, I guess. But it's not. It's good," I said. "Whenever I hear it, or see it, I think about him. I think about how close I got to him, when I had never gotten close to anyone. It reminds me of the connection I felt the first time I looked in his eyes and how I wanted to stay in that moment forever. I think about how much I loved him before I even knew who he was." I let out a small sigh. "In the vision I had of myself last year, I got so bad that I asked Logan to kill me. And he did. But before, I told him to remember the rain and he would always remember me. Only it was the other way around. Because every time I hear it, I remember when it rained there and I think about him."

"I know that Logan and I disagree on a lot of things, almost everything actually, but I know he loves you and he does what he thinks is best," Scott said. "I just hope that my daughter will feel the same way about me as you feel about him."

"She will," I assured him. "There's no way she wouldn't be absolutely in love with you. You're going to be a fantastic father; I have no doubt about that in my mind.

I saw him smile in the darkness. "Thank you," he said, taking my hand and holding it.

"You're welcome."

"Why don't you go to sleep? I'll be right here if you need me."

"Yeah, okay," I said. "Goodnight Scott."

He gave my hand a light kiss. "Goodnight, Jayden."

I fell asleep that night in a mix of emotions. I was still scared and worried over Hank. I didn't know if he was going to live and be okay. I didn't know _what_ was going to happen. I wondered if Tony was going to be able to catch the person who shot him. And as I held Scott's hand tight, I enjoyed being so close to him and pretending he was mine.

If only for one night.

* * *

I woke the next morning with a headache. That was the first thing I thought about. The second was that someone was tickling my arm. It took my a little longer to realize that they person wasn't actually tickling it, but brushing their fingers up and down it, lightly grazing my skin. At first I thought it was Logan. He sometimes woke me up doing the same thing. But it wasn't him. His fingers were rougher, stronger. The ones I felt brushing a trail up my arm were softer and although strong, they weren't quite the same. It took me a few moments after waking to remember that I had fallen asleep with Scott.

It was him.

I opened my eyes and saw him lying beside me.

"Did I wake you up?" he asked.

"No, I have a headache, it woke me up."

He stopped tracing his fingers up and down my arm and let it rest on it instead. "I'm sorry," he said. "Other than that, how did you sleep?"

"All right I guess. I'm a little sore, but nothing too bad."

"Good," he said, then brushed his hand over my cheek before allowing it to rest on my arm once again.

I rolled over onto my back and sat up, leaning back against my headboard. He followed and did the same, sitting up beside me. Then he covered my hand with his and stroked the side of mine with his thumb.

I looked over at him. "What are we doing?" I asked.

"We're sitting in your bed," he said with a small smile.

"Funny, but that's not what I mean," I said. "What are we _doing_?"

His smile fell and he shook his head. "I don't know what you mean."

"I know that I asked you to stay with me last night and I _really_ appreciate you doing that, don't get me wrong," I said. "I'm just…I'm confused."

"Well now I am," he said. "I still don't know what you're talking about."

"You were rubbing my arm when I woke up, you stroked my cheek, you're holding my hand now. It's just hard, and it's confusing."

He removed his hand from mine. "Sorry, I didn't mean to make you feel uncomfortable."

"I didn't say you made me feel uncomfortable. That's the problem. I feel _too_ comfortable like this with you. I want this _too_ much. I know you mean it innocently, but I…I want it to mean more. So yeah, it gets a little confusing."

"I don't mean to do that to you, I promise."

"I know. You feel comfortable with me and I take that very seriously. I know what it's like to be scared of getting close to people," I said. "But I also know what it's like to be scared of being _too_ close to someone."

"I don't want you to _ever_ be scared of being close to me, Jayden. I'm sorry that I make you feel that way, though."

"It's not your fault."

"Then who's is it?"

"Cupid," I said with a small smile.

He smiled back slightly. "So you blame him for a misguided arrow?"

"No, it wasn't misguided," I said. "You're not a bad person to be in love with, Scott; it's just the _wrong_ time to be in love with you."

"I'm still sorry."

"Don't be. I just want everything to stay clear and honest between us. Deal?"

He nodded and continued to smile. "Deal," he said. "Now what do you say to getting some breakfast? Can we still do that?"

"Yeah, we can still do that."

So we went down to the kitchen for breakfast. Bobby and Rogue were already there and cooking.

"How are you feelin'?" Marie asked.

"I'm okay. I have a mild concussion, which is probably why my head feels like it's about to split in two."

"Oh, but other than that you're _fine_," Bobby said sarcastically from where he was, scrambling eggs at the stove.

"Shut up, she's not feelin' good."

"I was joking. I just think it's funny that she's covered in cuts and bruises and the only thing she's complaining about is that she has a headache."

"Well it's not funny."

"It's fine, don't worry about it," I said, taking a bottle of Sunny D from the refrigerator.

"Do ya'll want some waffles and eggs? We can make some for you."

"Yeah, if you don't mine, please," I said.

"None for me," Scott said as the phone rang. "I have to go get that, but thanks."

He left the room and I sat down at the island. My head was killing me and the bright lights in the kitchen weren't helping any. I had my head bowed when I heard something rattle in front of me. I looked up and saw Rogue shaking a bottle of Aspirin in front of me.

"Need some of these?" she asked.

"Yeah."

"They work really well if you crush 'em up and put 'em in water and drink it."

"Are you supposed to do that?"

She shrugged. "I don't know, but it always works for me."

"Does it taste bad?"

"Kind'a. It's mostly just sour, though. Once you're done you can drink something else and it takes the taste away."

"All right, if you say so," I said, taking the bottle from her.

I popped it open and took two out while Rogue went to the cabinet to get a glass. She filled it full of water and brought it over to me. I took the Aspirin and put them in a napkin before grabbing the butter knife on the island and using the heavy end of it to crush up the pills.

"If nothing else, it's good therapy," she said.

I laughed as I opened the napkin and poured the crushed powder into the glass. Then she handed me a spoon for me to stir it up. When I was done, I turned the glass up and chugged it as fast as I could. She had been right about it being sour, but it was also a little chalky, only making it worse.

"I hope it works because that's gross," I said, opening the lid on my Sunny D and taking a sip.

"Can I ask what happened, or do you not wanna talk about it?" she asked as two waffles popped up out of the toaster. She went over to get them.

"Someone shot Hank. There wasn't too much to it other than that."

"How'd you hurt your face?"

"I heard the shots and dropped down without thinking. Logan's drilled it into my head that whenever I hear a gunshot, I'm supposed to hit the ground. So I did. Only when we ran that drill, there was never a car in my way. In real life, there was a very real car."

"Did you hit the front or the back?" Bobby asked, putting a plate with scrabbled eggs on it in front of me.

"Of the car?" I asked.

"Yeah."

"The back. I hit the bumper here," I said, pointing to the side of my mouth, "and then hit the tailpipe, which was, thankfully, not hot, right here." I pointed to the corner of my eye. "That's also where the concussion came from."

"Maybe the Aspirin will help," Rogue said with a short smile, placed two waffles on the plate Bobby had sat in front of me.

"Yeah, maybe."

"I have very good news," Scott said, walking back into the room.

"What?" I asked.

"That was Jean. She said that one of the bullets damaged some tissue in Hank's shoulder, but he'll only need to keep it in a sling for a while, and the other grazed his knee cap, so he'll have to use a wheelchair until he can start walking on his own, and then a cane until it's fully healed," he said. "But otherwise, he's fine."

"Is he awake?" I asked.

"No, not yet. But Jean said that's nothing to worry about. The amount of anesthesia they had to use to put him under at his size can take a day or so to wear off."

"Are they taking care of him?"

He nodded. "Yeah, Jean said they were."

"What about the news? Have they caught onto this yet?"

"Bobby and I both watched the eleven o'clock news last night, neither of us saw anything. They didn't run anything about it this mornin' either," Marie said.

"Hopefully they won't get a hold of it. But we're not going to worry about that right now, we'll deal with it if it comes up," Scott said. "I'm going to go contact Strom and Logan, see how they're doing and update them on what's going on. I'll be downstairs if you need me."

He left and Rogue, Bobby and I ate breakfast together. We didn't talk much and I did my best to pretend that Bobby's eggs weren't all that bad. When I was done, I was full and my headache was gone, but something was still feeling a bit off. So I went to go find Scott to see if he could help. When I found him, he was in Hank's office, talking to Storm on speakerphone.

"How much blood _did_ he lose, exactly?" I heard her ask as I walked into the room.

"Quite a bit. A few pints, actually. But the doctors told Jean that Jayden saved his life. She acted immediately and wrapped the wounds. She kept him from bleeding to death."

"How's she holdin' up?" Logan asked.

"She's still a little shook up. But you know how she is; she's got on a brave face, she won't let anyone see her being scared."

"She's also standing right behind you," I said, walking up to him.

"How you doin' kid?" Logan asked me over the speakerphone.

"I'm okay. I am still a little shook up, but I'm not putting on a 'brave face' as Summers here put it. I'll be fine."

"You sure?"

"No, I'm never sure," I said.

"Good point," he said. "Can you take care of yourself until I get home? We're gonna be back tonight."

"Yeah, I can take care of myself until then. But I have to work today, so I'm not going to be here worry about it."

"You're not goin' to work."

"Why not?"

"'Cause I said so. And you've been through too much to be goin' to work havin' people boss you around," he said. "You're stayin' there."

"Fine, whatever."

"When is Hank going to be released?" Storm asked.

"We don't know. Jean said he was still out when I talked to her and she said he probably wouldn't wake up until later today, maybe tomorrow," Scott answered.

"What about the police? Have they found the person responsible for shooting him yet?"

"I don't know. Jayden's friend, step-brother…whatever, Tony De Luca is working on the case. As far as I know, he hasn't contacted us," Scott said, looking over at me.

"He hasn't," I said. "I plan on calling him and checking in if he doesn't call me in the next couple of hours, though. But I don't want to interrupt his work right now."

"Why is he working on Hank's case?" Storm asked.

"He heard that there was a mutant that had been shot and he and his partner asked for it to be assigned to them," I answered. "But it's out of their precinct, they're NYPD, and to be honest, I don't think anyone else wanted this case."

"Does he have a good chance of catching the person who did it, though?"

"They took down everyone's statements and I gave them the description of a possible suspect, other than that, I don't know what evidence they have. But Tony was a detective in California for a while before he turned FBI, so he knows what he's doing."

"What about you? Haven't you seen anything? The shooter, where he lives, _anything_?" Storm asked me.

"No."

"Can't you focus on it and see what comes up?"

"It doesn't work like that," I said. "I see what comes to me. If you want someone to do that, call the Professor."

"He's already tried. He can't get anything. Neither can Jean," Scott said. "We'll have to wait until he can use Cerebro to see if he can figure anything else out."

"When is he coming home?"

"We're not sure yet. It might be a week or two before Hank's released and Xavier was pretty adamant about someone staying with him at all times. I wouldn't be surprised if he stayed with him until he's released."

"When we get home, I can trade with him and Jean. I'll stay with him and they can come home and work on finding whoever did this with Cerebro," she said.

"What do you two have left to do before you can start back this way?" Scott asked.

"We just have to tie up some loose ends and cover our tracks. It shouldn't take us over five hours. We'll be back by late this afternoon at the latest."

"All right. Do what you have to do and be careful. We'll see you when you get home," Scott said to her."

"Okay. If you hear anything new on Hank, call and update us."

"Will do."

"And remember, kid; you're not goin' to work. You hear me?" Logan said.

I smiled. "Yeah, I hear you," I said. "Be careful old man, I need you back here."

I heard him sigh. "I'm gonna regret this later, but keep an eye on her, Summers. Just until we get back."

"Don't worry. I'll take care of her."

We all said bye and then Scott turned off the speakers, ending the conversation. Then I looked over at Scott. "Feel like hitting the Danger Room for a session?" I asked.

His eyebrow raised above his visor. "Do you feel up to one?"

"Yeah."

"Are you sure?"

I cocked my eyebrow at him. "Why wouldn't I be?"

He shrugged. "You had a hard day yesterday, you got hurt, maybe you should take it easy for a while."

"I don't need to take it easy. I need to blow off some steam. Even if it's just like, an hour, I don't care. All I want is to hit some stuff."

"Do you really think it'll make you feel better?"

"Yeah, I do. You don't think that beating the crap out of stuff is therapeutic?"

He gave me a slight smile. "Yeah, I do, actually."

"Good. Let's go, then. I still need to break in my uniform a bit more."

"Yeah, they take some wear to get use to them."

"Tell me about it. I could barely breathe the first time I put it on."

"So you really want to do a session in the Danger Room, then?"

I nodded. "Do you mind? If you do, you can set up a solo session for me and I can do it myself. I just don't know how to do it on my own."

"No, it's fine, I don't mind. I just wanted to make sure."

I smiled at him. "Suit up, then."

We both left, grabbed our uniforms and went to the locker rooms to change. My suit was still a little tight from not having been broken in completely. But even though it was snug, it fit my perfectly. I had been used to wearing one of Jean's old uniforms for so long that I had gotten used to it not fitting me properly. She was a little taller than me and my chest was a bit bigger than hers, but it had fit well enough to serve its purpose; to allow me to work out and train. But once I had gotten my own, one that was made to fit _me_, I couldn't go back to the other one.

Once I was dressed, I met up with Scott in the hall and we walked to the Danger Room together. He loaded one of the sessions that Logan and I had run a few times, but I was anxious to see how Scott would do in his place.

The object of the session was to reach a building at the end of the city where we were at. The problem was we had to walk. And to keep from being spotted in our uniforms, we had to stay in the side streets and back alleys. There were people lurking around corners and Scott and I had to keep them at bay and from attracting anymore attention. So we had to be aware of what was going on at all times. And that meant keeping the witty banter to a minimum. That and neither of us were in the mood for anything 'witty'. We both kept quiet and did our part taking them down.

The session itself wasn't that spectacular. But it was great in training me how to fight without drawing attention. So I tried being efficient in fighting, but I didn't hold back any of my anger, either. I took it all out on the men attacking us. There were people out on the streets, walking or driving, they were in stores and taking. But I blocked it all out, ignored all of the noise from the 'city' and focused solely on the mission at hand. And we zipped through the course in what seemed like record time. When we reached the small shack at the end of the city, the overhead voice announced that we had won and the images disappeared, leaving us in the large blue-grey room.

"When you said you had to blow off steam, I didn't realize you meant you wanted to kill people," Scott said as we began walking towards the exit.

"What are you talking about? I didn't kill anyone."

"You snapped three of the men's necks. They were dead before they hit the ground.

I stopped and looked at him. "No. I didn't snap anyone's neck. I definitely didn't snap _three_."

"I saw you. You were moving fast, but I saw you break them."

"I think I would remember that."

I saw his brow furrow above his visor. "You really don't remember doing it?"

"No, because I _didn't_ do it."

"Jayden, yes you did. I saw you snap their necks."

I shook my head. "Why are you screwing with me?"

"I'm not."

"Yes you are, Scott. If I had killed anyone, real or computer animated, I would remember it," I said. "I'm not in the mood for you to be playing games with me, okay?"

"I'm not playing games with you, I wouldn't do that, I promise."

"So you're not playing games with me, you're just saying that I did something I don't remember doing? Honestly, I'm _not_ in the mood for any of this," I said and started towards the exit again.

"I told you, I'm _not_ playing games or messing with you," he said, following me. "I would never say something like that unless it was true."

"Well obviously you would, because that didn't happen. How stupid do you think I am? I would remember killing someone during the mission. It's not like I could have missed much, the whole thing only took about thirty minutes."

"Okay, wait, what?" He grabbed my arm and stopped me just outside the Danger Room doors. "That took us an hour and a half to complete, maybe two hours. It definitely didn't take thirty minutes."

I shook my head again. "No, you have to be wrong."

"There's a clock in the locker room, you can look at it when you go in there. It has to be at after two already," he said. "You really don't think it took that long?"

"Maybe I just got caught up in it, or something, but yeah, it didn't seem that long to me."

"And you don't remember killing anyone in there either?"

"No."

"Have you ever done that before?"

"Have I ever done _what_ before?"

"Blacked out in the middle of a training session, forgotten what you've done?"

"You think I blacked out? I remember everything we did, I _didn't_ black out."

"You don't remember killing anyone, and you didn't realize how long it took to complete it. You tell me what that sounds like to you."

"It sounds like I was pissed and angry and needed a way to get my frustrations out and I ended up getting too into the session."

"But you're Logan's daughter."

"And what is _that_ supposed to mean?"

"He goes into berserker rages when he fights sometimes. He forgets what he does, too. He loses time, chunks of memory. I've seen him do it."

"So? What does that have to do with me?"

"Maybe you're doing the same?"

"I didn't go into a berserker rage, okay? I don't do that. I know what I do when I fight and I remember it. I've never done it before, so why would I do it now?"

"I don't know. Maybe this thing with Hank pushed you over the edge."

I swore at him. "So you think I've gone over the edge now? That I've lost my mind and my ability to control my actions?"

"I didn't say that."

"You might as well have. I'm not crazy Scott -"

"I never said you were."

"- And I have perfect control over what I do."

"Okay, so you do have control over it, fine. You still don't remember what you did," he said, letting go of my arm and walking towards the men's locker room. "Check the clock, Jayden; it's already past two."

I didn't say anything. I just stormed past him and into the women's locker room. I didn't look at the clock; I stripped off my suit right away and got into one of the shower stalls. I didn't take long; I wasn't really in the mood for lingering. I only wanted to get dressed and go back to my room until Logan got home. Once I was done, I dried myself off and got dressed in the clothes that were in my locker. The whole time I avoided looked at the clock. I was sure I was right, that Scott had only exaggerated the time and how long we were really in there. But once I closed my locker door, my curiosity got the best of me and I glanced at it. It was ten till three.

And I lost it.

Everything from the past day and a half built up inside me in that moment and broke through. Everything about Hank, that morning with Scott, Storm's inferior tone when she asked if I could see anything about Hank's shooter, and the fear that like Logan, my rage could be so strong that it could overwhelm me and take over every part of me. It all came up and I wanted to cry. But I didn't. I was tired of crying and I was going to let myself do it anymore.

So I screamed.

I screamed out my frustrations, but it didn't help. So I punched the locker in front of me. The moment my skin made contact with the hard metal, it hurt. But it was what I needed. I needed to feel someone real. So I kept punching and screaming, trying to pound in the pain I felt to my numb mind.

Punch, scream.

Punch, scream.

Punch, scream.

Then I stopped. I fell to the floor on my knees. I curled up against one of the benches. And I covered my ears with my bloody hands. I covered them to try to keep the noises out, but still my mind screamed I was crazy. So I closed my eyes, rocked myself back and forth and sang.

"_I'll be seeing you, in all the old familiar place that this heart of mine embraces, all day through. In the small café, the park across the way, the children's carousel, the chestnut tree, the wishing well. I'll see you in the morning sun and when the night is new. I'll be looking at the moon, but I'll be seeing you_."

I stopped singing when I felt myself being hauled out of the floor and onto the bench above me. I opened my eyes to see Scott pulling me to his chest. "What are you doing?" he asked.

He hugged me to him for only a few moments before pulling me back to look at me. He took my hands in his and looked at them, glanced at the blood that was dripping down my dented locker door, back to my hands and then up to me.

"Why were you hitting your locker?"

My breathing was labored from my frantic movements and I took a second to catch my breath. "Because I'm pissed," I answered simply.

"At who?"

"I don't know," I said, pulling my hands from him and stand. "I just am."

"If this is about earlier, I'm sorry; I didn't mean to upset you."

"I know," I said. "Right now I'm mad at everyone and everything." I shook my head as the pain in my hands finally started catching up to me. "I'm just _so_ angry."

"Can I do anything to help?" The question sounded cheesy, but his voice was sincere.

"Not unless you can go back in time to about five minutes ago and tell me that punching metal isn't the brightest of ideas."

He stood up and walked up to me. He took my hands once again and looked at them. "I can't do that, but I am certified in first aid," he said, looking up and giving me the tiniest hint of a smile. "Would some Band-Aids and ice cream help?"

I nodded. "Yeah," I said. "That might work."


	14. These Hard Times

Disclaimer: I don't own the rights to X-Men or Marvel. I am, however, looking for a job so that I can pay for a trip to Disney World this fall. That place is expensive. But it's got me to thinkings; shouldn't Marvel open up their own theme park? Wouldn't that just be like, so freakin' awesome? I think so. Anyway, I hope ya'll enjoy the next chapter!

* * *

After finding me sitting on the floor, rocking back and forth and with my hands bleeding, Scott had taken me down the hall to the infirmary to try to bandage them up and sat me on one of the examination tables.

"Did you hate coming in here after Jean was gone?" I asked.

"Yeah," he said, looking over at me. "Why?"

"Because I hate being here without Hank."

He took out a couple of gauze bandages and a tube of antibiotic cream from a drawer then closed it. "But Hank's coming back."

"I know."

He walked over to me, dropped what he had in his hands on the seat beside me and then went over to the sink. He washed his hands before taking a clean washcloth from the shelf beside it and wet it. Then he came back and pulled up a chair in front of me. He cleaned off the dry blood on my hands with the wet end of the washcloth and carefully dried the skin with the dry end of it. Then he took the antibiotic cream and squeezed a thin layer of it over the skin before he took one of the packages of gauze, opened it and placed it on my busted knuckles. Then he wrapped my hand with a few pieces of medical tape to keep it all in place. Once he was done with the first hand, he repeated the same thing on the other one.

"Let's try not to do this anymore, okay?" he said, standing up and looking down at me.

"I'll do my best."

He brushed his hand across my cheek and then cradled my head with it. Even though I couldn't see his eyes, I knew they were looking into mine. "You're too young to be this angry Jayden."

"Hank always says I'm too beautiful to be angry," I said with a sad smile.

"Well, he's right. You're too beautiful, too young, too _good_ of a person to be thing angry. You've overcome too much this year alone to let this be the thing that eats away at you. You did everything you were supposed to do with Hank, you saved his life. You need to _try_ to think about that, not all the other stuff."

"You don't understand, Scott, you weren't there. All I can think about is them finding the person who did this and killing them."

"You don't know what happened, maybe it was an accident."

"You don't _accidentally_ shoot a mutant twice. That doesn't make sense."

"How did he know that Hank was going to be there, though? That doesn't make sense, either."

"I don't know," I said. "But it doesn't change the fact that I want to _kill_ the person who did it."

"Wanting to do it and actually doing it are two different things. You can't kill whoever did this and have Tony cover it up again."

"I didn't have Tony cover up anything last time. _I_ did," I said. "Logan's always told me that if I can't cover my own tracks, I deserve to be caught. I just told Tony what happened, I didn't ask him to help me hide anything."

"But this time it'll be harder to hide your tracks. The police are going to know that you have motive to kill. If he turns up dead, you're going to be on the top of their suspect list, whether you did it or not."

"Fine, I won't kill anyone, then," I said, hopping down from the exam table. I heard him laugh slightly and I shot him a look. "What do you find so funny?"

"Just how much you sounded like Logan when you said that."

"Is there something _wrong_ with me sounding like him?"

"No ma'am," he said with a grin.

"Did you just call me _ma'am_?"

"Yeah," he said. "Is there anything _wrong_ with me calling you that?" His grin grew wider.

I shook my head. "You promised me some ice cream, Summers. I'm holding you to that."

"Okay. Why don't you go up and get the pint I bought you last night, if it's still there, and I'll call your boss and explain what's going on and tell him that you can't come in."

"You know, one of these days he's going to wonder why I never call in myself."

"But until then, we'll keep calling him for you."

I gave him a short smile. "Thanks."

"You're welcome. Now go get your ice cream before one of the kids eats it, if they haven't already."

I left the infirmary and took the elevator to the first floor. When the doors opened up, I saw Marie standing in front of me.

"Oh, I was just goin' down to talk to you," she said.

"About what?" I asked, stepping out of the elevator.

"Tony called a few minutes ago. He said he needed to come over and see you, if that was all right," she said following me as I walked towards the kitchen.

"What did you tell him?"

"I told him I had to call the Professor and check. So I did and he said he was always welcome here, especially now that he's workin' on Hank's case."

We rounded the corner and continued down the hall. "So you called him back and told him that?"

"Yeah."

"Did he say when he would be here?" I asked, walking into the kitchen.

"That's the thing; he's already here."

And sure enough, there he was, sitting in a chair at the table by the bay window. When he saw me, he flashed a smile.

"How does that saying go again?" I asked him. "Oh yes, speak of the Devil and he shall appear."

He kept smiling as I walked over to him and he stood up to meet me. "Well I _have_ been told that I'm devilishly good looking."

"By who? Your mother?"

"And grandmother," he said. He looked me over. "Nice outfit."

"I just got through working out. These were the only clothes I had in my locker," I said. I was wearing a pair of cotton shots and a T-shirt with the Xavier's school logo on it. Far from anything glamorous. "So, what brings you here?"

"Aside from wanting to be in the presence of your blatantly cheery demeanor?" he asked, continuing to grin at me.

"Yeah, _aside_ from that."

"I have news."

"Good or bad?"

"Both."

I let out a sigh. "All right, bad news first."

"The rainstorm last night washed away our entire crime scene."

"Okay, so what's the good news, then?"

"Our CSU team feels confident that we got everything we needed before it disappeared."

"Is that it?"

"No. You told my partner last night that you thought the shooter was on the roof of the store."

"I still think that."

"Good, because we checked and the evidence we found supports that theory."

"What kind of evidence?"

"Shell casings with a partial fingerprint, a couple of muddy footprints and some cigarette butts."

"That's all you found?"

"Well that's a lot."

"Really? A couple of footprints that could belong to _anyone_, cigarette butts you can't get hardly _any_ DNA from, and a partial fingerprint. That's next to nothing."

"If you want to think of it that way, sure."

"How else am I supposed to think of it?"

"A partial fingerprint is better than none."

"And unless it can be matched, it's the same as not having one."

"You know, this was supposed to be the 'good news' part, don't ruin it."

I rolled my eyes. "Do you have anything else?"

"We're working on it."

"Great," I said as Scott walked into the kitchen.

"Uh, hi," he said to Tony, looking confused. "I didn't know you were stopping by today."

"I let him in," Rogue said. "Xavier told me I could."

"Is that a problem?" Tony asked.

Scott shook his head. "No, not a problem at all."

"Good," he said. "I don't think I've ever properly introduced myself. I'm Tony De Luca."

"Scott Summers. And I've heard quite a bit about you. You and Jayden are brother and sister now, right?" Scott said, a sly smile on his face.

"_Step_-brother and sister but close enough," he said. "And I've heard quite a bit about you, too."

"Really? I didn't expect her to talk about me."

"Oh yeah. Your wife's having a baby soon, right?" Tony said with a sly smirk of his own.

"That's right. A month and a half to go, we're very excited," he said, not letting Tony think he got to him.

"Well, congratulations."

"Thanks," he said. "Have you and your partner found any leads yet?"

"No, we're working on it, though. I actually came to see if Jayden wouldn't mind coming down to the station with me and helping us out."

"How?" I asked.

"You can touch things and see memories from them, right?"

"Not quite."

"What do you mean 'not quite'?"

"I mean I don't always see things."

"Is there anything we can do to help make you see something? Light candles, do a chant?" he asked, a slight smile on his face.

"It doesn't work like that," Scott answered.

Tony looked at him, nodded, then looked back to me. "How _does_ it work?"

"If there was something traumatic that happened while the person was holding some sort of object, or whatever, then it can _sometimes_ leave an impression on it. And _sometimes_ I can see them. But not always."

"Fine. Give me a ballpark figure. Is it like, one out of five, one out of six? How often does it happen?"

"There's not a percentage Tony. It happens or it doesn't. It's not exactly the strongest part of my mutation."

"What is?"

"Seeing visions," I said. "But every other aspect of my mutation, the heightened senses, reading people emotions, the way I move, _all_ of it's stronger than my ability to pick up on memories left on objects."

"Can you try?"

"With what?"

"The shell casings we found."

"You found shell casings? Can't you match that to the weapon and trace it back to the owner?" Scott asked.

"We can match the make, which we did. It's a semi-automatic. The only problem is that _hundreds_ of people in the city have them registered to them, not to mention the amount of people that own them and _don't_ have them registered," he said. "It's going to take a lot more than that."

"What about the guy I described to your partner last night?" I asked. "Have you checked him out yet?"

"Yeah. We pulled the tapes from the security cameras at the store. We saw the man you described. But he left before the shooting happened."

I let out a sigh. "So you really _don't_ have anything, do you?"

"Well I know I'm not like, an expert at crimes or anything," Marie said, speaking up for the first time during our conversation, "but don't ya'll have a face recognition machine, or something?"

"Yeah, why?" Tony asked.

"Well can't you take the video from the store, put it in the face recognition thing and run it against mug shots from people who might've been arrested for hurtin' mutants?"

"Well…I don't know," Tony said. "I guess we could try that."

I gave Rogue a look. "How do you know they can do that?" I asked.

"One of my cousins held up a bank back home once. He'd had a pretty bad rap sheet when he was younger and he'd changed a lot since his last mug shot. They ran the face thing on a picture they took off the video and found him," she said. "But it was a small town in Mississippi, so the equipment probably isn't the same as yours."

"Probably not," Tony said with a smile. "I don't think I ever got your name, what is it again?"

"You didn't get it 'cause I never told you," she said with a small smirk. "It's Rogue, and that ain't easy to forget." She gave him a wink before walking over to Scott. "I'm gonna go check on the kids outside and make sure they're not burin' the house down. Come find me if you need me."

"I'll do that," he said as she turned to leave.

"Well Summers, looks like we're going to have to put a rain check on the ice cream. I'm going to go get ready and go with Tony," I said. "If Logan comes home before I get back, tell him where I'm at and that I'm okay."

"All right, be careful."

"We will be."

"Nice to see you again Tony," he said.

"Yeah, you too."

And yet neither one of them meant it.

I left the kitchen and Tony followed. I led him towards the elevator and pressed the button for the doors to slid open. When they did, I watched him smile.

"You have an elevator in your school?"

"Yep," I said, stepping in.

"Very James Bond," he said, doing an impression of Sean Connery with his voice.

I laughed. "Oh, Bond has nothing on us."

I pushed the button for the second floor and when we got there, we walked from the student's wing down through the teacher's hall and to my room.

"And it's still freakishly neat," Tony said as we walked in.

"Why do you have such a problem with how neatly I keep my room?"

"I don't. It was just an observation."

"Well try keeping your observations to yourself while I get changed, all right?" I said, opening my closet.

"Do I have to keep them to myself _before_ you get changed?"

I looked up at him. "I don't know. It depends on what you're observing."

"Your hands. What happened to them? They weren't like that last night."

"Yeah, I got into a fight with a locker," I said. "It won."

"Any reason why you were fighting an inadament object?"

"Not a good one, no."

"What about a bad one?"

"I was pissed."

"For any particular reason?"

"Yeah, just not one I feel like sharing," I said, taking out a pair of blue jeans from the top shelf in my closet. "Anything else you need to know before I change?"

"Yeah, how old is that Rogue chick?"

"Twenty-two. Why?"

"She's kind of cut, don't you think?"

"I guess."

"Are you jealous?" he asked with a smile.

"No."

"So you wouldn't mind if I asked her out, then?"

I smiled at him. "No," I said. "But Logan might."

The smile fell from his face and he looked suddenly confused. "Why would he care?"

"Because that's his girlfriend," I said. "Or something like that. I don't know what they're calling each other these days."

"But he's older than me."

"More than you know, yeah."

"I thought he told you that I was too old for you?"

"He did."

He scratched his head. "How does that work out?"

"It doesn't. I asked him about something similar to that once and he told me I was supposed to do as he says, not as he does."

"I would do what he says, he scares me."

I laughed. "Good, he should," I said. "I'm going to change; any more observations before I do?"

He smiled. "You make a black eye look very sexy."

I shook my head. "You're such a charmer, Tony."

"I can't help it, it's in my blood."

"I know," I said. "I've met your father, remember?"

"Yeah. And he remembers you, too. He wants me to get you to marry me before some other guy snatches you up."

"I don't _get_ snatched," I said. "But why does he want _you_ to marry _me_?"

"Because he thinks we would make beautiful grandkids for him."

"Com on, he's going to have cute grandkids no matter who _you_ marry. Your brother and Karen are good looking people; their kid's probably going to be absolutely beautiful."

"And if it takes after her, he's going to be a little…on the dim side, shall we say?" he said. "But you and me, we'd have gorgeous _and_ smart kids. Not to mention funny and charming. I mean, with me as the father, who could they not be?"

"And your modesty would be a given as well, yes?"

"Absolutely." He grinned.

I shook my head again. "You're horrible," I said with a smile. "Now I'm taking my sexy black eye and going to the bathroom to change."

I took my blue jeans into my bathroom and slipped out of my shots before pulling the jeans on. My hair was a mess and looked like I had a semi-mohawk going on. I tried flattening it with some hair wax, but it didn't help and I didn't feel like wasting my time. After that I realized that makeup wasn't going to help much either. My eye was still black and bruised and the cu beside it and my mouth still looked pretty bad. The butterfly bandages didn't do too much for me either. But I did my best to work around them and look at least somewhat presentable. Then I slicked on a bit of lip-gloss and decided that I would try out the tough girl look and hoped no one would question my authenticity.

When I was done, I walked back into my room and caught Tony looking through some of the things on my shelf.

"'The House on Pooh Corner'," he said. "One of the classics."

"That was a birthday present."

"You had a birthday?" he asked. I nodded. "When?"

"A couple of weeks ago. I'm officially no longer a teenager."

"Congratulations, now I don't feel as creepy being attracted to you," he said. "Too bad you're still getting Winnie the Pooh books, though."

"Hey, that was a sweet gift, thank you very much."

"Who gave it to you?" he asked. "Wait, let me guess; Scott, right? He looks like the kind of guy who would buy you something like this. 'I'm married, and decent, so I'm not going to flirt with you even though you're absolutely gorgeous and I would have to be completely blind not to notice, so I bought you this book because I remember that you told me you loved it when you were a kid. But, you know, it's nothing'," he said, mimicking Scott's voice.

"You really don't like him, do you?"

He pulled at the tie around his neck, loosening it a bit. "No, I don't."

"He probably doesn't like you much either, so I guess you're even," I said. "But it doesn't matter because he didn't buy it for me."

"Dr. McCoy, then? I would assume he would buy it for you out of sincerity, though. He seems like the kind of guy who would genuinely want you to have something like that if it meant a lot to you when you were younger."

"Are you sure you were a profiler? Because you really suck at this."

"Fine, who bought it for you then?"

"Not that it's any of your business, but Logan did."

He looked at me and cocked his eyebrow. "He bought you a children's book?"

"It means something to us, so yes."

"What does it mean?"

"Like I said; it's none of your business."

He gave me a cheeky grin. "Did he write something in it? Maybe I can find out myself." He started thumbing though the book and I tried to take it away from him. He kept a good grip on it until his cell phone rang and he answered it. "De Luca."

I took the book from him and placed it gently on the desk, back in the same spot I had had it in. I listened to Tony's hurried conversation as I walked to my wardrobe to get out my leather jacket and slipped on a pair of shoes. When he hung up, I already knew what he was going to say.

"Dr. McCoy's awake."

"I know, I heard," I said, grabbing my bag and slinging it across my shoulder. "Can we go see him?"

"Yeah, come on, let's go."

* * *

The moment we walked into the hospital, the memories of the night before came rushing back to me. I tried pushing them out of my mind but all I could think about was how horrible Hank was going to look. I imagined him bloody and bandaged and in pain. And the closer we got to his room, the worse that image grew so much so that by the time we reached his door, I believed that when I walked in, he was going to look so terrible that I would break into tears the moment I saw him.

But sometimes we build things up in our minds worse then what they really are.

I walked into Hank's hospital room and saw him lying in bed. His left leg was being held up in a sling that hung down from the ceiling and his arm was in a smaller one. His face had a few scratches on it, but overall, he didn't look too bad.

"Henry, Jayden's here," the Professor said.

I saw Hank smile. "My first visitor," he said. "How are you feeling, my dear."

"I'm okay," I said, walking closer to him. "How are you?"

"I'm doing well. The morphine is disagreeing with my stomach slightly, but otherwise I'm doing quite well."

I reached his side, but noticed he wasn't looking at me. It was then that I realized something was wrong. "Hank, why aren't you looking at me?" I asked.

He turned his head and looked in my direction, but his eyes never quite found me. "Sorry, I didn't realize you had moved."

"What's wrong? Why can't you see me?" I asked, starting to panic.

He reached out and felt for my hand with his. Once he found it, he grabbed it and held it tight. "What's wrong with your hand? Did it get hurt yesterday?"

"You tell me what's wrong with you eyes first and I'll tell you what's wrong with my hands."

"_Hands_? Both of them are injured."

"Hank, what's wrong with your eyes?" I said, my voice sounding ruder than I had meant.

"Nothing is wrong with my eyes."

"Bull crap."

"It's true," Xavier said from where he was sitting on the other side of his bed. "When he fell yesterday, he hit his forehead and bruised the occipital portion of his brain."

"That's in the back of his head, how did he bruise it? He only hit his forehead."

"The force caused his brain to bounce, which is what bruised it."

"The occipital is what controls sight, isn't it?"

He nodded. "When he bruised it, it rendered him temporarily blinded. It's nothing to worry about, it _will_ return."

"When?"

"A few days, perhaps weeks. It just depends on how well it heals and how quickly," Hank said. "Now your turn; what happened to your hands? Did they get hurt yesterday evening?"

"No. I got mad and punched my locker. But Scott fixed them up, so they're fine."

"I'm not going to ask why you were hitting your locker, but I do want to know if you were injured at all yesterday?"

"I got a few cuts and scratches and a mild concussion from hitting my head against a car. But other than that, I'm okay."

He let out a sigh. "Good. I was worried about you."

I bent down and kissed his cheek. "I'm so sorry this happened to you, Hank. I really am."

"Bless those who mourn, for they shall be comforted."

"Is that Shakespeare?"

He smiled. "Not quite," he said. "It's in the Bible; Jesus said it."

"Oh."

"Sir," Tony said, finally speaking up. "If you don't mind, could I ask you a few questions?"

Hank looked in his direction and blinked. I saw the frustration on his face when he finally decided he wasn't going to be able to see him. "May I ask who you are first?"

"Detective De Luca."

"You wouldn't be _Tony_ De Luca, would you?"

"Yes sir, I am," he said. "And I'm working your case. So if you don't mind, may I ask you some questions?"

"I'm not sure that I can give you the answers you're looking for, but yes, you may ask me what you need."

Tony walked over to his bed and stood beside him as I pulled a chair over to sit in. As Tony spoke, Hank continued to hold my hand tightly in his. He asked him mostly the same questions that his partner has asked me the night before. And Hank's answers were almost exactly the same as mine, only perhaps a little bit better spoken.

He told him everything he knew up until the part where he was shot, where he said that he felt the shot in his arm but barely remembered the one in his leg, as that's what caused him to fall forward, falling flat against the asphalt and knocking him unconscious. After that, it was up to me to fill in the blanks for him. When I got to the part where I had spent an hour in the waiting room by myself, Jean came in, explaining that she had gone down to get some lunch.

"Did Logan come to get you?" Hank asked.

"No, Scott did," I answered.

"Was Logan there when you got home?"

"No, he and Ororo are still gone."

"Did anyone look after you last night?"

I glanced over at Jean before looking back to me. "Scott kept an eye on me. He made sure I was okay."

"Have you spoken at all to Logan? Does he know what's been going on?"

"Yeah, Scott and I talked to him and 'Ro a few hours ago. They're going to be home soon and Storm said she's going to come see you when they do."

The door to Hank's room opened and a nurse walked in. "Visiting hours are over. You two are going to have to leave," she said to Tony and me.

He pulled out his badge and flashed it at her. "I'm Detective De Luca, I'm interviewing a victim."

"I'm sorry Detective, but visiting hours apply to everyone, even you. And my patient needs his rest, so I'm afraid you have to leave," she said. "I'll be back through in five minutes, I expect you to be gone by then."

She left the room and I looked down at Hank. I bent down to kiss his cheek again and hugged his neck. "I'll try to come back and see you again tomorrow, okay?" I said.

"You don't have to go out of your way to come see me."

"I'm not. I'll be here tomorrow, I promise."

"Then I'll be looking forward to having your company, my dear," he said, and I could sense him smiling as I kept hugging his neck.

"I love you, Hank."

He cradled my head to him for a moment with his free hand. "I love you too, sweetheart."

I told Hank, the Professor and Jean goodbye before giving Hank another hug, then Tony and I left. We didn't speak as we made our way out of the hospital and out to his car. But once we got there, I realized something felt a bit off.

I looked over at Tony. "What's wrong?" I asked.

"Nothing," he said, backing his car out.

"Well something's bothering you."

"It just would have been nice to have been warned is all."

"Warned about what?"

"About how he looks," he said. "It's a good thing he couldn't see, because I probably looked pretty stupid when I saw him."

"I'm sorry; I forget that he looks different. I didn't mean to surprise you or anything, I just forgot."

"You _forgot_? How do you forget that a man's blue, furry and absolutely massive? That's impossible to forget."

"No it's not. Hank's a wonderful man; I don't think about the color of his skin."

"What are you talking about 'the color of his skin'? It's not like he's a different ethnicity. The man is _blue_, Jayden. And _furry_. Not to mention the fact that he looks like he could snap someone's neck with the swipe of his hand." He shook his head as he kept his eyes on the road. "I thought I was going to walk into the room and see a normal looking person who just _happened_ to be a mutant."

"Does it really matter what he looks like?"

"Yes, it _does_ matter what he looks like, because now everything's changed."

"How? He's still a victim and you're still a detective."

"But I thought we were looking for someone hated mutants, _all_ of us. Now I'm looking for someone who may not hate all mutants, but saw him in the parking lot and got scared."

"So it's _his_ fault that he was shot because he doesn't look 'normal'?"

"I didn't say that, but I am wondering why he was there in the first place."

"Because Jean asked him to make cupcakes for her stupid baby shower this weekend and he had to buy decorations."

"Couldn't he have sent someone else to do it for him?"

"Why would he?"

"I don't know Jayden, maybe because he looks like a Jim Henson version of the Abominable snow monster," he said sarcastically. "Every time he goes out in public, he's a walking target. I'm surprised he's never been shot before."

"What is your _problem_?" I asked, my frustration and anger coming through in my voice.

"My problem is that my job just got ten times harder and we don't have enough evidence to even know who to look for," he said. "I'm going on three hours of sleep and about thirty cups of coffee right now. I spent _all_ of last night going through the statements taken from the witnesses and none of them saw anything. And I thought you could help, I thought you could touch the shell casing or the bullets and see something, but you might not be able to do that. Our crucial first twenty-four hours are almost up and we have _nothing_. That's my problem."

"You have the bullets?" I asked.

"What?"

"Do you have the bullets that shot Hank?"

"Yeah, I told you that earlier."

"No, you told me that you had shell casings. You never mentioned bullets."

"Why does it matter?"

"Because the casing would be discarded after the shot was fired, the bullet was actually _inside_ Hank, which was a traumatic experience," I said. "What's the bullet made out of?"

"Copper, why does it matter?"

"Metal holds memories better."

He looked over at me. "You're kidding, right? Certain materials hold memories better than others?"

I nodded. "Yeah, bricks are the best for doing it."

"Why?"

"Because they use some of the same stuff in bricks that they use in tape and video recorders, so they tend to 'record' an event. And when someone like me comes through, my mind gets used as a type of VCR and I watch it all play out."

"Do you think you might be able to see something now?"

I shook my head. "I don't know, maybe. I just wouldn't count on it," I said. "But if I do, how would you explain that to your captain?"

"It all depends on what you see, I guess. But I'll find a way to do it without letting him know you're a mutant, okay?"

"Yeah, okay."

"And I'm sorry about the Jim Henson crack. I know you don't think about Dr. McCoy any differently than the rest of your family. Besides, it's not up to you to warn me about how he looks," he said. "I can get pretty rude when I'm tired. So, sorry."

I thought about it for a moment, letting his words sink in before I nodded. "Apology accepted."

He looked over and gave me a weak smile. "Thanks."

We rode the rest of the way to the police station without speaking. The silence was broken only by the jazz music Tony had playing in his car. I had never cared too much for jazz, but whatever CD he had wasn't too bad, so I didn't bother asking him to change it. But once we got to the station and parked, I wasn't exactly sad that he had to turn it off.

He led me into the building and I have to admit that I was a bit nervous. I had never been in a police station before and I wished that my first time in one would have been because of different circumstances, but unfortunately it wasn't. So I followed him quietly as he led me inside, into an elevator, up one floor and to an office portion of the station. He walked to a desk that I assumed was his and saw his partner sitting at the one across from his.

He looked up at me and smiled. "Hey, how are you?"

"I'm well, sir. How are you?"

"I'm good, thanks," he said. "Have you been stuck with De Luca all day?"

"No, sir. Just for the last hour or so."

"Has he been bothering you?"

I smiled slightly. "No. He's behaved himself pretty well, actually."

"Good. If he gives you any trouble, just tell me. I'll set him straight for you."

Tony laughed as he pulled off his suit jacket and hung it on the back of his chair. "She could probably set me straight herself if she wanted," he said, rolling his sleeves up. "From what I hear, she can hold her own pretty well. Not to mention she's not too bad with a can of mace."

"Is that right?" Detective O'Reily said.

"The mace part at least," I said. "I'm not so sure about the rest."

"You told me you could kick my butt," Tony said, sitting down at his desk and looking at the Post It notes left on it.

"Well it wouldn't take much, would it?" his partner joked.

Tony looked back up at me. "You can sit down if you want."

"Oh, but I thought we were going to, uh…you know?"

"In a minute. I have to work it out first, okay? So why don't you sit down and wait until I can."

O'Reily shook his head and stood up. "You'll have to forgive him. He wasn't raised with manners," he said, grabbing his chair and pulling it over for me to sit in.

"Thank you," I said.

"Hey, I'm mannerly. My brain just isn't functioning without any sleep."

"Your brain never functions," he said, then looked down to me. "Do you want something to drink? A soda or some coffee?"

"Yeah, I'll have a coffee. I take mine with four sugars," Tony said and then looked up. "Oh, you were asking _her_."

I laughed. "If you don't mind, I'll have a cup of coffee, please," I said.

"How do you drink it?"

"Just black, please."

"How can you drink it black?" Tony asked.

I shrugged. "I don't know. Sugar ruins the taste of it for me."

Detective O'Reily laughed. "Now that's my kind of girl."

"Too bad you're married," Tony said. "Not to mention you have a kid close to her age."

"How many kids do you have?" I asked as he poured my coffee in a Styrofoam cup.

"Three," he said. "A seventeen, twelve and eight year old."

"Let me guess," I said, "they're all girls."

He smiled as he handed me my coffee. "Yeah, how did you know?"

"The way you got irritated with Tony when he didn't offer me a chair. You probably had lot of sisters too, huh?"

He nodded. "I have five and one brother."

"That's a lot of kids."

He laughed. "Yeah, it is," he said, sitting back down in his desk. "Do you have any brothers or sisters?"

"No, sir."

"I thought your mom had some kids?" Tony said, flipping through a notebook.

"She had a son that died at birth," I said.

He looked up at me. "No, your real mom, the one that died last year. Didn't she have three kids, too?"

"How do you know about that? I never told you."

He gave a loud, nervous laugh. "Well I certainly didn't learn it by doing a background check on her, if that's what you were thinking."

"You ran a background check on my _mother_?"

"No," he said, continuing to laugh nervously. I gave him a look. "Well maybe."

"For any special reason, or are you just nosey?"

"Come on, what's the point of working for the FBI if you can't enjoy the perks?"

"Why can't you enjoy the perks by doing a background check on someone else? Why her?"

"I was curious. I can get you a copy if you want it."

"I don't."

"But you don't know a lot about her. Maybe this could help you get to know her better."

"She's _dead_ Tony, there's not a lot to know about her."

"Your mother passed away?" Detective O'Reily asked.

"My birth mother did, yeah. But I was adopted when I was four, so I never really knew her that well. And I don't think it would do much good to get to know her know that she's dead."

"So did you know that she had other kids?" he asked.

"Yeah, I knew. I met her daughters once, but they were annoying. I never really met her son, but I saw him at her funeral and I'm pretty sure he hates me," I said. "Or at least he did. Maybe he's over it by now."

"Well I'm sorry for your loss," he said.

"Yeah, thanks."

But there was no loss on my part, and I was grateful for that.

After thirty minutes of talking and watching Tony and his partner go back over what notes they had made the night before, Tony decided he had 'worked out' a way for me to get a hold of the evidence and see if I could sense anything from it. And by working it out, he meant that he had Detective O'Reily snatch the bags with the bullets and meet up with us outside an empty interrogation room.

I was a bit leery of letting his partner know that I was a mutant, but he had mentioned the night before that one of his younger sisters was a mutant and had gone to Xavier's. He had also said he didn't feel any hatred towards us. But it was still a bit of a hard decision for me to make. In the end, I told him and he agreed to stand guard outside the room while I went in with Tony and did my best to grab something, _anything_, from the evidence they had.

But when he opened the door and I walked in, my mind was flooded with hundreds of images immediately. Pictures, sounds, emotions, tastes, feelings, everything all at once assaulted my brain. I was on complete sensory overload and all I could do was fall to my knees and grab my head in a futile attempt to stop the pain. I didn't scream for fear of bringing attention to myself, instead I gritted my teeth together. And that was the last rational, logical thought I had.

Minutes passed by and yet it felt like hours. Tony tried to help. I heard him calling my name, trying to figure out what was wrong, but I couldn't tell him. I could make my mouth form the words to explain that I could see horrible crimes that terrible people had committed and confessed in that very room. That I could feel the terror cursing through their victims bodies. Men, women, little children, all being hurt badly or murdered. I felt their pain, their fear. I could hear their screams and pleadings. I felt it all and there was no way for me to tell him to get me out of the room.

I couldn't tell him and so when I felt myself being hauled out of the room, I didn't understand it. Not until the pain stopped and I opened my eyes to see Logan in front of me.

"Just breathe, all right, darlin'? Catch your breath," he said.

I nodded and did as he said. Once all the pain had subsided and my breathing returned to normal, I fell into his arms and hugged him. He held me tight, cradling my head against his chest.

"They shot Hank." Those were the first words out of my mouth. I knew he knew already and it had nothing to do with what was happening when he found me, but I felt a compelling need to tell him. So I did.

"I know, baby. But he's fine," he said. "I'm not worried about him; I'm worried about you."

I pulled back and looked up at him. "I'm fine," I said.

He ran his fingers over the bandages on my face. "You're fine, huh?"

"It's just a few cuts and bruises. It's not a big deal."

"What about your hands? Scott told me what you did."

"It's not a big deal," I said again.

"He said he found you curled up in a ball, rockin' back and forth, and singin'. He said that your knuckles were busted up and your hands were covered in blood. That sounds like a big deal to me."

"I got upset, that's it. I took a shower in the downstairs locker room, I was pissed when I got out and I punched my locker. I had been worried about Hank all day and I had some other stuff on my mind and I lost it a little bit. It really _wasn't_ a big deal."

He stared down at me for a few seconds before nodding, then he turned his head to Tony. "What were you doin' with her in there?" he asked, his tone taking on an edge.

"She was trying to help us -"

"Help you _how_?" he growled.

"She said she could try holding the bullets we recovered from Dr. McCoy to see if she could sense anything," Tony said, looking extremely nervous. "Sir," he added.

He looked from Tony, to Detective O'Reily and then down to me. "They both know about this?"

I nodded. "Yeah."

"Whose idea was it?" he asked.

"To do what? See if I could get a reading off the evidence or to tell Tony's partner about me?"

"Both."

"It was Tony's idea about the evidence, but I made the decision to do it. And the other was my idea."

He looked back to Tony again. "What were you thinkin'? Do you have any idea what you were askin' her to do? Huh?"

"We were just asking her to get a reading. I didn't know that this was going to happen," he said. "I actually don't even _know_ what just happened really."

"You put her in a room where murderers, rapists, and all kinds of sick people've talked about what they've done, about how they've killed people."

"Well, yeah, it's an interrogation room. I don't understand the problem."

"The problem is she _saw_ all of that. She saw it, she heard it, and she felt it. And you just let her sit there."

"I didn't know. I thought she was having a headache from the concussion she got yesterday," he said. "I'm very sorry, sir. I didn't mean to put Jayden in a situation that would upset her."

"Really? 'Cause weren't you tryin' to get her to see the shootin' from yesterday all over again?"

"Well…yeah."

"But you didn't wanna put her in a situation that would upset her, right?" he asked sarcastically, shaking his head.

"Sir, we understand that you're upset, but Jayden's been very helpful to us. Unfortunately we don't have a lot of evidence at the moment and we thought she might be able to help us a little more. We weren't aware that she would have a negative reaction to being in the interrogation room, we were only trying to get her out of the way so that no one else would see her," Detective O'Reily said.

"Well I'm takin' her home. You need anymore of her 'help' then you call. But she ain't comin' back down here again."

"We understand that sir, but -"

"No," Logan said. "No buts. I'm takin' my kid home. She watched her friend get shot twice yesterday and she was the one takin' care of him until the ambulance got there. And not only that, but she was left in the waitin' room, all by herself, covered in blood and no one cared."

"We didn't know she was there," Tony said. "The moment I found out it was her, I had a doctor check her out and found a new set of clothes for her to change into. We didn't know that she was at the hospital for nearly an hour after the accident."

"I don't care; I'm still takin' her home."

"Why don't you go down to the car and I'll meet you in a second, all right? I have to get my bag and jacket, but I'll be right down, I promise," I said.

"If you're not down in five minutes, I'm comin' after you."

I nodded. "Okay."

He left the room and I heard Tony let out a sigh of relief. "He _really_ hates me," he said.

"No he doesn't. He's just tired and worried about me. It makes him extra cranky. But if I don't get down there soon, he is going to hate you," I said. "Sorry I couldn't be more useful. If you come up with a way of smuggling those bullets out of here without looking suspicious, then we can try it again. But until then I have to go."

"Okay, thanks anyway," Tony said.

"I guess I'll talk to you later. If you find out anything new, will you call me?"

He nodded. "Yeah, don't worry, I will."

I gave him a small smile. "Bye."

He bent and gave me a small kiss on my cheek. "Bye Jayden."

I left the room and walked back into the office to collect my bag and leather jacket.

"Why don't you let me walk you down?" Detective O'Reily asked from behind me.

"You don't have to, I'll be fine."

"I'm going out to get some lunch anyway, so it's not a problem," he said, grabbing his suit jacket and keys and walking with me towards the elevator.

"Well thank you anyway, sir."

He stepped into the elevator and held the door open for me. "You don't have to call me sir; you can call me Dave, I don't mind."

"Sorry," I said. "It's something my parents ingrained in me at a young age."

"I understand, my parents were the same," he said with a smile. "But you dad doesn't really seem to be too big on formalities, I'm surprised he would make you call anyone sir. No offence, though."

"None taken, because he's _not_ big on formalities," I said. "But he didn't raise me."

"Who did?"

"My adoptive parents."

"Isn't he your father?"

"Yeah, my biological one. I met him two years ago and I've been living here in New York with him for almost that long now."

"How did you meet him?"

"It's a bit of a complicated story, I'm afraid," I said, running my fingers through the front of my hair, pushing the tips of it off my forehead.

"That's an interesting tattoo on your wrist. That's Latin for 'This is my only salvation', right?"

"Yeah, how did you know?"

"My parents were Catholic, so I went to Catholic school when I was younger. I had to take Latin for a while. There's a few things I still remember," he said. "What do the numbers mean?"

"They're my dad's," I said. "My real one."

"Was he in the Army?"

"Yeah, he was part of the Canadian Armed Forces."

Although Logan couldn't remember much of it, he had told me once that he thought he had been in the Army at some point. He had had a few flashbacks of him in fatigues. That's not where he had gotten the numbers on his dog tags; he had gotten them from Stryker. But sometimes the truth's a bit harder to explain.

The elevator stopped and we both exited. He started towards the parking lot and I followed him.

"So if the numbers are your dad's and the tattoo says 'This is my only salvation', does that mean that he's your savior?"

I looked over at him. "Feel free to express how blasphemies you find it. A lot of other people have."

"Your dad?"

"No. My mom's family and friends. I went back to her wedding to Tony's dad few weeks ago and they all thought it was trashy and blasphemies. Which is funny, because I didn't realize any of them were religious."

"Where does your mom live?"

"California."

"You moved from there to here? That's a pretty big move."

"Tell me about it."

"So you moved here to be with your dad?"

"Yeah."

"What does he think about your tattoo? I bet it's a big confidence booster."

I laughed. "Not quite," I said. "He actually doesn't care too much for it. He's not exactly keen on me getting tattoos and piercings."

"Is he a good dad?"

"Yeah. He's a bit of a non-conventional father, but I'm not really a conventional daughter, so I guess we work out," I said. "I know he seemed a bit rude when he was in there earlier, but he's not always like that. He was away on a job and working when he found out about Dr. McCoy. We're all really close at the school, we're a family, so it affected us all. And he's worried about me, too. Despite how he may seem, he's actually a good guy. But I appreciate your concern."

He gave me another smile. "You're a smart kid."

"That's what they tell me."

He walked me the rest of the way to Logan's car before saying bye and walking to his own. I climbed into the passenger's side and threw my stuff into the back seat as Logan pulled out of the parking lot.

"You hungry?" he asked.

"A little, yeah."

"You wanna get something to eat?"

"If you want. But aren't you tired?"

"Yeah, but you lose enough sleep and you start gettin' used to it," he said. "Besides, you need to spend more time with me, kid." He looked over and gave me a wink.

I just smiled, but didn't reply. We were both quiet for a few miles before I finally spoke up. "I blacked out during a training session today," I said.

"What do you mean?"

"After we talked to you and Storm, Scott and I went to the Danger Room for a session. It was one we had run before so I knew it, but while we were doing it, I thought it seemed to be going by fast; I just didn't think anything about it then. I remember being mad and taking my anger out on the program. But when we were done, Scott said that I had killed three or four of the men, or something, maybe it was more. He said I snapped their necks. But I don't remember it," I said. "Then he told me that it had taken us nearly two hours to complete the session. I thought we had finished it in thirty minutes."

"Well you had a lot goin' on, you were probably just upset."

"That's what I said. But…Scott brought up that you black out when you go into your berserker rage."

"Yeah, well, Summers is an idiot, so don't listen to everything he says."

"But he's right, isn't he? You do black out when you go into one, don't you?"

"Yeah, but that doesn't mean you're goin' to start doin' the same."

"But it's possible."

"It's also possible that you could sprout wings and start flyin', but it doesn't mean you're goin' to."

"Maybe if you had wings it would be a little different," I said. "But I have your eyes, your senses, your attitude and your very twisted sense of humor, not to mention your temper."

"You don't have my claws, you don't have my healin', just 'cause you've got a couple of things like me don't mean you've got them all."

"But if I've inherited all of that, then why not this too?"

He looked back over at me. "'Cause this is the first time it's happened, isn't it?"

"Yeah. I mean, I guess. I don't know. I wouldn't have known about this unless Scott told me. So I'm not sure if it's the first time it's happened or not."

"Well I've never noticed you doin' it before, so today was probably the first time. And just 'cause it happened today doesn't mean it's gonna happen again. You were havin' a hard day and probably lost track of time."

"That doesn't explain the fact that I killed those men in the session without realizing or remembering it."

"Darlin', you gotta get used to the fact that the reason you're trainin' is so you _can_ kill people. You're trainin' to fight on instinct, without a thought. But when you're trained to fight like that and you're pissed, you're bound to forget some of the stuff you do."

"But what if that's not what it was? What if I'm starting to fall into berserker rages?"

"Then you'll learn to use 'em, 'cause sometimes it's better to not remember things," he said. He was quiet for a moment then let out a breath. "Where do you wanna eat?"

Logan drove for thirty minutes to a small dive restaurant right outside of town. He had a knack for finding out of the way places that had great food. So even though the outside looked a bit dodgy, I didn't doubt his choice.

"So," he said, looking at his menu once we had been seated, "did you beat up your locker 'cause of what happened in the Danger Room?"

"Yeah, kind of."

He gave me the eyebrow. "What else made you do it?"

"I don't know, I was just worried about Hank and stuff, I guess."

"You guess?"

"Well, I _was_ worried about him, I just…I don't know. I had other stuff on my mind, too," I said, twirling my straw around in my cup.

"Like what?"

I let out a sigh. "I asked Scott to stay with me last night. I was upset and didn't want to be by myself. So he stayed."

"He _slept_ with you?" he said, his voice rising. I saw a few people turn to look at us.

"Shh, not like that. He was just trying to comfort me; you would have done the same thing."

"Yeah, but I'm your father, it's completely different."

"Whatever, nothing happened. The point is that when I woke up and he was there, it just felt right. And then I felt guilty. But I was also kind of happy, too. Which just made me feel confused. Then I felt bad even _thinking_ about him, and not because of Jean but because I wasn't thinking about Hank, and that only made me feel even more confused. Then that just pissed me off, so I started the whole day off in a bad mood and we did the Danger Room session in and Scott told me what I had done, I got a little scared. And being scared just pissed me off even more because I'm _so_ tired of being scared. So really my only two options were to either cry or scream and I decided to scream, but it didn't help much, so I just started punching my lock over and over and over again." I let out a sigh. "I don't know, it seemed like a good idea at the time."

"It always does."

"Yeah, but you can go with those stupid ideas that _seem_ good at the time, and you don't have to deal with the physical repercussions, I do," I said, holding up my left hand and showing off my bandage. "I'm surprised I didn't break my knuckles."

"Well if you weren't thinkin' about so much stuff, maybe you could've actually thought about how dumb of an idea it was."

"I wasn't thinking about that much."

He cocked his eyebrow at me again. "Were you listenin' to yourself when you were ramblin' off that list of crap you _were_ thinkin' about, or was I the only one listenin?"

"You were probably the only one. I talk a lot without ever really making a point about anything, so I tend to tune myself out. Even _I_ find my own self-pity annoying."

He gave a small chuckle. "You might wanna start listenin' to yourself again; you're startin' to get over the self-pity thing. Now you worry about other people too much."

"Who would ever think that would happen to me, eh?"

"You start gettin' older and you find yourself doin' a lotta things you never thought you'd be doin'."

"Tell me about it, dude."

"Too bad one of 'em isn't you not callin' me 'dude' anymore."

No matter what the situation was, Logan always had a way of making me feel better.


	15. All We've Known

Disclaimer: I don't own the rights to anything Marvel or X-Men. But I hope ya'll enjoy!

* * *

Logan and I spent three hours in the diner before we finally decided to leave. I thought we were going home, but instead he kept driving. When we were about an hour out of town, he pulled up outside of a bar.

I looked over at him. "Are you going to get my drunk?" I asked.

"No."

"Are you going to let the bartender get me drunk?"

"No, and if anyone offers to buy you a drink, you tell 'em you're allergic to alcohol and if you drink it you'll die."

"That would be such a lie, though."

"Fine. Tell 'em if they buy you one and you drink it, _they'll_ die," he said. "'Cause I'll kill 'em."

"That _wouldn't_ be a lie." I looked back at the bar. "So if I'm not allowed to drown my sorrows in an adult beverage, why _are_ we here?"

"You told me you wanted me to start cage fightin' again, right?"

"Yeah."

"I thought you might wanna watch."

I looked over and smiled at him. "You're actually going to let me go into a bar and watch you fight a bunch of guys and trust that I'll be all right?"

"Why not?"

"Do you remember the _last_ time you were fighting in a bar and I went in to find you? Some random perverted dude tried to drag me off to a back room and you ended up killing him."

"That was before you learned how to take care of yourself," he said. "Now you could kill 'em on your own if you wanted."

"I _don't_ want. I would really rather not kill anyone again unless it was absolutely necessary."

"You got a problem with watchin' me beat some guys up, then?"

I shook my head. "Nope, no problem. I actually kind of enjoy watching you do that."

He smiled. "Good. Let's go.

Logan somehow managed to get me into the bar without a hitch and I found a table close to the cage so that I could watch the fights and he went to talk to the man who was handling the fights to put his name on the list. Turned out that it was a pretty short list. The fighter who was there had been there for three weeks, undefeated. Logan intended to change that and make a couple of hundred bucks while beating out his aggressions on other men. And I had a front row seat to watch, but still far enough away to keep the blood splatter off me.

I hadn't been raised in a violent family. My parents had been very strict about what movies and TV shows I watched, what books I read, and even what type of music I listened to. Everything was monitored and they decided what was 'appropriate' for me. The most violence I was even allowed to watch was The Three Stooges, and at times, my mother was leery of that.

And yet despite all of that, despite the fact that I had been sheltered from all violence except for the slapstick I saw in movies, the real violence I saw on the news, and the things that haunted me in my visions, I still felt something deep in my gut pulling at me. Something that was attracted to an animalistic, raw, unbridled want, _need_, to fight. Even though I hadn't been overly exposed to it, it felt familiar, like something I could relate to. Because somewhere, deep down inside of me, I felt it. But I didn't know what it was. So I ignored it. It wasn't until I met Logan and saw him fighting did I finally understand what it was. And once I understood it, there was no going back.

Learning how to fight was something I did out of necessity. After the last time I had been in a bar with Logan and a man tried to drag me out, more than likely with the intent to rape me, while I was helpless to do anything, I decided I didn't want to be like that anymore. So when I moved to the school, Logan taught me how to defend myself. But after the first few weeks it became about something else. It became a need to take all of that animalistic, raw, and unbridled need to fight that I had been attracted to, what I felt burning inside of me, and act on it. It had started as a need to protect myself and became so much more. It became something I knew without a doubt that I was good at. No, not good, great. I was an excellent fighter and I knew that with time, I would only get better.

I watched Logan fight for almost an hour in a near mesmerized way. Sigmund Freud believed that there were two driving forces in all humans; the need to procreate and the need to destroy. Logan was the perfect example of those two forces. Although I believed his need to destroy was stronger than his desire to procreate. He already had a daughter; he didn't need any more kids, not for a while anyway. So his desire to fight became all that much stronger.

There hadn't been much action on the mission he and Storm had been call to the day before and that meant the anger he usually kept saved to take out on the bad guys was still built up inside of him. And I watched as with each punch to the head, face, stomach, his aggression flowed out. I sensed him beginning to relax and with that, his fighting style became less of a frenzied attempt to punch out his anger and more of a concentration of his strength to take down the men with little to no effort.

I sat and watched quietly while everyone around me cheered on Logan and his opponents and I was reminded of the Roman Coliseums. The desire for barbaric entertainment wasn't dead, despite what most civilized people would like to believe. Instead, the arenas had changed, but the Gladiators were essentially the same: Men trying to fight for, to _win_ their right to live. To prove that they were strong and worthy. That's why even though they saw Logan brutally beating his opponents to the win, man after man stepped up to have their chance to fight him.

And everyone in the audience lapped it up.

I was turning down my fifth offer for a man to buy me a drink when my cell phone rang. I pulled it out of my pocket and answered it.

"Jayden, we have some news. I thought you might like to hear it," Tony said.

"Yeah, what have you got?"

"Actually I was wanting to tell you in person," he said as Logan won another match and the bar erupted into cheers and boos. "What's that noise?"

"I'm watching a fight."

"Where?"

"Dirty Nelly's."

"That's a bar. What are _you_ doing there?"

"I'm watching a _fight_," I said again."

"All right, so how long are you going to be there?"

"A few more hours, I guess. Why?"

"I wanted to tell you the news in person rather than over the phone. Do you mind if I meet you there?"

"No, that's fine."

"Okay, I'll see you in about forty minutes."

"Yeah, see you then."

An hour later I saw Tony walk through the door of the bar and waved him over towards my table. When he finally made his way through the crowd to where I was sitting, I could feel his slight annoyance.

"When you said you were 'watching' a fight, I assumed you meant on TV; not a _live_ one."

"Assuming is never a good idea, Tony. Most of the time you end up wrong."

"Yeah, that's great," he said dryly. "Are you aware of the fact that ultimate fighting is against the law in the state of New York?"

"Actually, no, I wasn't aware of that. But thank you for informing me."

"Where's your father? Does he even know that you're here?"

"Yes he knows I'm here."

"Then where is he?"

I pointed to the cage behind him. "He's the one who's winning."

Tony looked over his shoulder in time to see Logan knee a guy in the stomach and then head butt him. He looked back at me. "He's fighting here?" he asked.

"Yeah."

"So not only are you watching illegal fights, but he's participating in them?" He shook his head. "I can't believe this."

"Didn't you say you have some good news?"

"Yeah, I did, but that was before I got distracted by how many laws are currently being broken," he said at the sound of Logan's fist shattering his opponent's nose filled the room, much to the delight of those watching. "Not to mention the bones."

"Actually the nose is mostly cartridge, the bones are probably fine."

"I don't care if his nose is made out of cotton candy; your dad just broke it."

I looked up at him. "Are you going to arrest him and the guys running this place, then?"

He ran his hand over his face. "No, I'm not," he said. "Not now anyway."

"Then what did you find out?"

"Can we go somewhere a little quieter and talk?"

"Like where?"

He seemed to think for a moment. "How about my apartment?"

I cocked an eyebrow at him. "You want _me_ to go to _your_ apartment?"

"I'm not going to try anything. I promise. I just want to get out of this suit, I've been in it for two days, and maybe get something to eat that _isn't_ in a Chinese take-out box."

I raked my hand back through my hair. "Let me ask Logan."

His eyes went wide for a second as he looked over at Logan in the cage. He was kicking the man he had just fought when he lay on the mat. "He, uh, he looks a little busy, are you sure you want to bother him right now?"

"If I don't ask him now, I won't get a chance until he wins the next fight."

"How do you know he'll win?"

I laughed as I stood up. "Because he _always_ wins," I said. "Stay here, I'll be right back."

I left my table and made my way towards the cage, but was stopped by a man before I could get to it. "Only fighters are allowed past this point and ladies aren't fighters. You're going to have to sit back down," he said.

"I've got to talk to your fighter."

"Which one?" he asked as two men dragged the man Logan had just knocked unconscious out of the cage.

"The one that's not looking like he might die tonight," I said as they dragged the man past us. "He's my father. I just need to talk to him for a second. It's not going to disrupt his fighting; I'll be done by the time you have the next fighter ready to go up against him."

"Two minutes, that's it."

I nodded. "Thanks." I walked over to the cage and wrapped my fingers in the wire, pulling myself up on the small platform. Logan was in the corner, drinking a shot of whiskey. "Hey," I yelled at him.

He sat his glass down and walked over to me. "What're you doin' up here?"

"Tony says they've found out something new about Hank's case. He wants me to go with him to his apartment so we can talk about it."

He swore. "You're not goin' to his apartment by yourself."

"I won't let anything happen, I swear. Besides, if it does, you'll find out and you can kill him. Deal?"

He ran his hand over his face, wiping the sweat off his forehead. "Is he comin' here to pick you up?"

"He's already here."

"And he's not arrestin' anyone?" he asked with a bit of a smirk.

"No. To be quite honest, I think this place scares him a bit," I said. "Actually, I think you're the one scaring him the most."

"Good, he should be scared of me."

"So can I go?"

"What time are you gonna be back?"

I shrugged. "I don't know."

He nodded and thought for a few seconds. "You can go. But I want you back home, in bed and asleep by the time I get there, all right?"

"What time are you going to be home?"

"This place doesn't close until three, so unless something happens, I'll be home around four."

"Okay, I think I can be home by then."

"Good. And when you wake up, I wanna know _exactly_ what you did at his apartment, you hear me?"

"Yeah."

"Be good. Unless he tries something, then break his arm."

I smiled at him. "Will do, furry-face. You try not to kill anyone, all right?"

"Yeah, see you in the mornin', kid."

I made a kiss face at him. "Bye, love you." He gave me a wink and I hopped down from the platform, then walked back to where Tony was standing. "He says I can go, but I have to be back before he gets home."

"Which will be when?"

"About four."

He nodded. "Okay, let's get out of here, then."

We left and began driving back to town. And the further we got from the bar, the more I felt Tony relax. I could sense that seeing Logan fighting had rattled his nerves more than a bit.

"So how did you get him to say yes to letting you go to my place?" Tony asked.

"I told him that if anything happened between us, he could kill you."

He laughed and looked over at me, but when he saw that I wasn't laughing, he stopped. "You're serious? You told him he could kill me?"

"It'll be a good incentive for you to behave yourself."

"Or you could _not_ tell him."

I smiled. "It doesn't matter if I tell him or not, he'll know."

"How?"

"Logan and I have this thing where he can just look in my eyes and see what I've seen."

"And that doesn't bother you?"

"No, it probably should, I'm sure, but somehow it doesn't."

"You know, I feel _very_ sorry for whoever you end up marrying."

I smiled. "That's assuming I actually _get_ married. It very well may never happen."

"I'm sure you will. You'll be a great wife and mom. Not to mention a very _hot_ mom."

I laughed. "As much as I appreciate you thinking I'll be hot even after giving birth, I don't want kids, so I guess we'll never know."

"You don't want kids? Why not?"

"I don't know, I just don't."

"But what about that kid you took care of a few weeks ago, Abby? You were great with her. She loved you."

"I didn't say that I didn't like kids or I wasn't good with them, I said I didn't want to have any."

"I don't understand why, though. You'd be fantastic."

"Not _every_ woman aspires to be a mother. There's absolutely _nothing_ wrong with that. And I don't know why everyone has to make me feel so guilty about that."

"I'm not trying to make you feel guilty, I just think it's a shame, that's all."

"Yeah, it's a real crying shame, whatever," I said sarcastically.

"Look, I didn't mean to offend you. But family's a big deal to Italians; I can't imagine anyone not wanting a big one."

I looked over at him. "You have _one_ brother, that's not a big family."

"Yeah, but I have a huge extended family."

"Do _you_ want a big one, though?"

"Yeah."

"How big?"

He shrugged. "I don't know, seven or eight kids, I guess."

"Seven or eight? Are you serious?"

"Yeah, why not?"

"Because I'm not sure your future wife would appreciate popping out that many kids. In case you're not aware, the act of giving birth, not to mention the nine months leading up to it, isn't exactly the easiest thing in the world. I've read that most women feel like they're dying. Aside from your body basically being invaded by some little dude that depends on you to actually live, do you understand the changes a woman goes through during the process? It's not just physically, as if that wouldn't be enough, but it's also hormonally, mentally, emotionally. Then once you finally give birth which, again, is a pain close to death, you have to completely take care of and raise the child for the first eighteen years of its life, _maybe_ more."

"Wow, you really _have_ thought about this, haven't you?"

"Well yeah, why do you think I don't want kids? To have one is to have the responsibility of raising a decent human being. That alone is enough to nearly drive just about anyone insane," I said. "Or at least it should be."

"Were you traumatized as a child or something? Because I've never seen anyone be so adamant against having kids."

"No I was not traumatized, I had great parents growing up, I'm not against everyone having kids; just me."

"So it has nothing to do with worrying about whether or not you'll end up like your mother?"

"Mom isn't a bad mother, a bit pushy, yeah, but she never did anything to purposefully hurt me."

"Not Terry, your real mother."

I looked out the window at the dusk colored sky. "I'm nothing like my mother and I'm never going to be. So don't even compare me to her."

"I wasn't comparing you to her; I was just asking if you're worried about being like her."

"I've been worried about a lot of things in life Tony, but being like her has _never_ been one of them. I don't care if I make the biggest mistake of my life and a kid comes out of it, I wouldn't get rid of them and screw up their lives just so I could have a better one. You stand up, you act like an adult and you answer for the situation you got yourself in. You don't make your kids pay for the mistakes you make."

"Jayden, I'm sure she didn't _mean_ to hurt you the way she did."

"Well you're the one who did the background check on her, you should know why she gave me up."

"Her records say nothing about her intent for giving you up for adoption."

"It doesn't have to, I already know why. She was ashamed of me. I was a kid and she hated me. She gave me away to save herself. She was selfish," I said. "But no, I don't think she meant to hurt me like she did. I don't think she cared enough to want to hurt me. But you know what? At this point in my life I don't. It's not important to me anymore. I've forgiven her and I've moved on."

"Well, maybe your mom screwed you over so you could appreciate it when other people don't."

"Or maybe life just sucks sometimes."

He looked over at me and smiled. "Yeah, that could be it, too."

* * *

"Wow, I'm impressed," I said as I walked into Tony's apartment.

"By what?"

"The fact that this place doesn't look like a frat house."

He pulled off his suit jacket and tie and slung them onto the back of his brown leather couch. "You know, I do actually have some taste."

"Could have fooled me," I said with a smile.

"Do you want something to drink? I bought a bottle of wine the other night and haven't opened it yet. We can break it out together."

"Tony, I'm only twenty."

He stopped midway to his kitchen, which was connected to his living room, and turned to look back at me. "You know, I keep forgetting that."

"Ask me next year, though. I'd love to get sloshed on wine with you."

"You don't get sloshed on wine."

"What do you do with it then?"

"You swirl it, sniff it and drink it while eating fancy cheeses and acting very pretensions."

I laughed. "I see."

"What about a water?"

"I think I'm old enough to drink one of those."

"Good," he said, continuing his way to the kitchen.

"You know," I said, looking at the movie cases stacked neatly beside his TV, "I've been with you for like, an hour and you still haven't told me what news you found out about Hank's case."

"Yeah, I forgot about that, sorry," he said, pulling a bottled water from his refrigerator. "We found the gun that was used to shoot him."

"That's fantastic. Now all you have to do is trace the serial numbers to find the owner and arrest them, right?"

"That's where it gets a bit tricky." He walked over and handed me my water. "We've already traced the numbers and found the owner. Two of the other detectives interviewed him, but it turns out that the gun was stolen a few weeks ago. We pulled up the theft report and his story checked out. The person who used the gun probably bought it off the streets from the guy who stole it."

"How is this supposed to be good news?"

"We found a bigger fingerprint on the gun."

"How big?"

"Six points. It's still a partial, but we're not complaining. It's bigger than the three pointer we got last night."

"Does it match that one?"

"Yeah."

"Have you ran it?"

He nodded. "Yeah. Unfortunately there's not a match, though. Our guy's not in the system."

"But you'll definitely be able to match it when you find them, right? I mean, a six point fingerprint is pretty big. People have been convicted with less."

"Yeah, we'll definitely be able to match it _if_ we find him."

"I like 'when' better than 'if'," I said.

"Yeah, I do too, but it doesn't always work like that."

I let out a sigh. "I just don't understand how this could happen."

"No one does. That's why it's so surprising whenever it happens to you or someone you know. It's always confusing," he said. "If you need to talk to someone about it, I'm sure Uncle John can refer you to a really great therapist here in New York."

I gave him a small smile. "I appreciate that, but I'm not really the kind of people who likes to talk about my problems. I have to deal with them on my own," I said. "But thanks."

"If you ever change your mind, let me know, okay?" he said. I nodded. "Well, I'm going to get out of this suit, do you mind?"

"Are you planning on stripping down here in front of me?"

"Not unless you want me to," he said with a cheeky grin.

"No, that's quite all right."

"Well if you change your mind, just yell," he said with a wink.

"I'll do that."

He left and went to his bedroom, closing the door behind him, and I continued to look around his living room. His taste in movies and music wasn't too bad. The shelves by his TV were lined mostly with classic, old, black and white movies. I had seen quite a few of them, but there were some I hadn't and was curious about. His music was similar in the fact that it was older fashioned. A lot of jazz, some Frank Sinatra, Luis Armstrong, Billie Holiday, Dean Martin, Shirley Bassey, and a few singers I had never even heard of before.

His decoration sense wasn't too bad, either. You could definitely tell it was a man's apartment, but it wasn't horrible. The walls were lined with framed posters of old Steven McQueen movies. I wasn't a big McQueen fan, but the posters added a very cool touch. And they didn't cover every wall; one was devoted solely to his diplomas declaring he was certified to serve as a detective on a police force, ones that boasted his acceptance into the FBI, and even a few framed newspaper clippings that mentioned his work in quite a few cases where his profiling had helped lead authorities to the criminals, mostly murderers.

As I looked at them, I felt a twinge of jealousy. I had wanted for so long to be a forensic scientist, I never thought about being anything else, and yet less than half a year into my first semester at college, I had quit. I didn't feel bad about quitting, I had good reasons for doing so, but what bothered me was than even though I wasn't cut out for forensics, I didn't know what I _was_ cut out for. I didn't know _what_ I was supposed to do with my life. In a sense, I was lost.

I let out a sigh and moved from the wall over to his couch. I saw down on it and looked at the books scattered across his coffee table. There were two books full of photos of old actors and actresses, a few magazines of antique cars, and one black leather photo album. I picked it up and started flipping though it. Pictures of Tony and his brother Chris when they were younger filled the beginning of the book. And I was quite pleased to find out that attractive, charming, debonair Tony De Luca with his gorgeous smile had at one point had a slight gap in his teeth and wore thick, geeky glasses. Not to mention had very bad hair.

"You know, you were quite a dashing young lad," I joked as Tony came out of his room and walked over to his couch. "But I have to admit, I never knew you wore braces."

He sat down beside me and flashed me a bright smile. "They worked, didn't they?" he said and I laughed. "You never saw me in them because I had them off in my second year of high school."

"I see."

"Did you ever have them?"

"No. Thankfully I was blessed with healthy, straight chompers," I said. "I've never even had a cavity."

"Really?"

I nodded. "Yep. It probably had a lot to do with my mother not allowing me too much sugar and forcing me to take good care of them."

"Well, I guess it worked. The first thing I noticed about you was your teeth."

I smiled. "You are such a liar."

"Okay, so maybe I didn't notice them first, but they were definitely on the list of the top ten body parts I noticed."

"What really was the first thing you noticed about me?"

He smiled. "Do you honestly want to know?"

"Well I wouldn't have asked if I hadn't."

"I uh, I noticed your back."

"My _back_?"

"Yeah."

"Really?"

"Yeah," he said again. "Why don't you believe me?"

I shrugged. "I don't know. My back is just an odd part to notice."

"You were wearing a backless dress, it was a little hard to ignore," he said. "Besides, you have a very nice back."

"Are you sure it was my back and not my backside?"

"You have a very nice one of those, too," he said.

I smiled and blushed slightly. "Thank you."

"What about me?"

"What about you?"

"What was the first thing you noticed?"

"I thought you had a very nice smile," I said. "So that really was the first thing I noticed about you. Plus you smelled pretty good, which was nice."

He laughed. "You thought I smelled good? You actually remember that?"

"Well, yeah. I like men's cologne. And you smelled slightly like cinnamon, or peppermint, or something. It was nice."

"So you weren't looking at my incredible physique, you were smelling me?"

I let out a laugh. "I'm sorry, I didn't realize you had an incredible physique, I apologize."

"You know, a lot of people don't realize that under the suits I usually wear, I'm built like Adonis."

"And if I knew who that was, I'm sure I'd be very impressed."

"He was a Greek God. Didn't you have to learn about that sort of stuff in school?"

"Probably. But I don't remember half of what I learned. It's quite sad, really."

He nodded. "Do you want me to take you home, or do you want to stay here for a little while?"

"Do you mind if I stay for a bit? It's a little sad at home without Hank there."

He smiled. "Yeah, you can stay, I don't mind."

"Thanks."

"Do you want to change or something? I can probably find a T-shirt and some pants for you to put on," he said. "It might be more comfortable than what you're wearing now so you can relax while I'm cooking."

"You cook?" I asked skeptically with a small smile.

"Yeah, I do."

"Like heating up a Hungry Man dinner in the microwave kind of cooking?"

"No, like actual cooking. A stove is involved at some point."

"Awesome."

"Why, do you know how to cook?"

"Not well, no."

"How bad is it?"

"No where near as bad as it used to be. But I never really had anyone to teach me."

"Yeah, when I was back in California I noticed that Terry didn't really cook."

"The only thing mom cooks is a meatloaf. And you _really_ don't want to eat it, trust me on that."

"Is it that bad?"

"Think of tomato flavored rubber with bits of cardboard in it formed into an awkward oval, egg-like shape and her meatloaf is like, ten times worse."

"What and you _didn't_ get that recipe? It sounds like a winner to me." I laughed. "Come on and I'll get you something to change into."

He stood from the couch and I followed him to his bedroom. I looked around a bit while he dug through one of his dressers.

"You said my room was neat, but your's isn't exactly messy," I said. I picked up a picture on his desk. It was of a dark haired woman. "Is this your mom?"

He looked over at me. "Yeah, that's her."

"She's beautiful."

He handed me a T-shirt and a pair of pajama pants. "I always thought so."

"What happened between her and your father that made them decide to get a divorce?"

"They said they were better friends than lovers."

"They couldn't be both?"

"I don't know. I guess not?"

"Does that scare you?" I asked, setting the picture from back down.

"Does what scare me?"

"Seeing your parents getting a divorce, worrying about whether your own marriage can last when you get married since their's didn't?"

"Yeah, a little, I guess," he said. "Does it scare you?"

I let out a sigh. "Marriage in itself scares me; it doesn't have anything to do with my parents. The whole idea of it's scary."

"Why?"

"Trusting yourself to someone for the rest of your life just seems…"

"Risky?"

I looked up at him. "Yeah. Exactly."

"Well I wouldn't worry too much about it right now. You're still young, so you have time."

"Time to do what, though? Stop being scared of getting close to people? I don't think that's going to happen."

"Why not? You're close to your family at home, so obviously you're getting better."

"Better isn't really going to cut it for a lot of guys. The only person I'm completely honest and open with is Logan," I said. "Do you know what's really sad? The most intimate relationship I've ever had, or probably ever _will_ have, is with my own father."

"That's less sad, more creepy."

I gave a small smile and shook my head. "So are you going to get out of here so I can change, or what?"

"Don't I get to decide if I want to stay and watch? It would only be polite considering I gave you that option."

"You're right, if you want to stay and watch, go right ahead, you totally have that option."

"Really?"

"Absolutely. I would just have to gouge your eyes out," I said. "Or you could just wait until Logan finds out, but he'd probably -"

"Kill me?" he said, cutting me off mid-sentence.

"I was actually going to say he'd probably gouge your eyes out, too, but I'm sure death would be part of it at some point, yeah."

He grinned down at me. "Okay, well, I'm going to go cook because I quite like being alive."

"Good idea."

He left his bedroom and I changed into the clothes he had given me. The T-shirt was blue and had FBI written across the front in yellow, and the pants were soft, grey flannel pajama pants that were too big but had a drawstring to help them from falling down. I changed and went back out into the living room/kitchen area to see Tony cooking.

"Do you like hamburgers?" he asked.

"Good ones," I said.

He laughed. "Well you're in luck them. I make fantastic hamburgers."

"Do you need me to help? Or will I get in the way of them being fantastic?"

"I thought you said you couldn't cook well?"

"I'm all right, but I'm brilliant at chopping stuff up if you need me to. I mean, I can even do it without cutting myself and getting blood everywhere."

He laughed again. "Good. There's an onion and a box of mushrooms in the refrigerator. If you can cut them up without slicing your hand, I'll share some ice cream with you tonight."

"Ooh, such the romantic," I joked.

I went to work chopping up the small onion and mushrooms while Tony worked with the hamburger meat. When I was done chopping, he took them both and mixed them into the patties. I was washing my hands off in his sink when I heard my cell phone ring. It was half past ten o'clock at night and I couldn't imagine who would be calling that late. I went over to my bag lying in the floor by his front door and dug around for my phone. I found it before it stopped ringing and answered immediately before I saw it was a call from home.

"Jayden, are you all right?" Scott asked as soon as I said 'hello'.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Why? Is something wrong there?"

"No, it's just getting late and you and Logan aren't back yet. I started to worry."

"We're fine, Scott."

"Where are you?"

"Well, uh…Logan's at a bar."

"Doing what?"

"Fighting."

"Figures," he said dryly. "Why aren't you there with him?"

"I got a call and had to leave."

"A call from whom?"

"Tony."

"What did he want?"

"He needed to tell me something about Hank's case."

"Where are you now?"

"His apartment."

"Does Logan know you're there?"

"Yeah, I told him where I was going before I left."

"And he just let you go?"

"Why wouldn't he?"

"Because he barely lets you out of his sight, I can't believe he would actually let you go to his apartment by yourself."

"Well I'm an adult, remember? So I don't really have to ask for permission, I'm perfectly capable of making decisions all on my own."

"And you think the one you're making right now is a good one?"

"I certainly don't think it's a bad one," I said. "Why? Are you jealous?"

"No, I'm just…I'm worried about you, that's all."

"Why?"

"Because I don't know this Tony guy, I don't know what he wants."

"You don't have to know. I do."

"So what _does_ he want then?"

"To make sweet passionate love to me," I joked. "He wants me to eat with him Scott. And then maybe stay and watch a movie, I don't know, but I'm going to be home tonight."

"Tonight as in before midnight?"

"As in before the sun comes up."

"And Logan's okay with that?"

"Dude, all he said was to be home before him," I said. "So go to bed Slim, I'll see you in the morning."

"Just…just be careful, okay Jayden? Because believe it or not, I actually _don't_ like seeing you get hurt."

"I'm not going to. It's just dinner."

I heard him sigh. "Okay, I'll see you in the morning then. Bye."

"Bye," I said, then flipped my cell phone close and put it back in my bag.

"Well that sounded extremely pleasant," Tony said sarcastically from the kitchen.

I laughed. "It was Scott. He was concerned about Logan and me not being home yet."

"Doesn't that ever piss your dad off?"

"Quite a bit actually, yeah. He thinks Scott should stay out of my business and stop paying so much attention to me."

"Does he know you're in love with him?"

"Like I said before; I'm completely open and honest with Logan. He knew I was in love with him before I did."

"Does he know that he's in love with you?"

"No, because he's not."

"Come on, I've seen him around you."

"Scott and I are close friends, we both mean a lot to each other, and yeah, he's attracted to me. But he's not in love with me; he has a crush at best. He's completely devoted to his wife to the point it's disgusting."

"He's devoted and yet you were about to have an ice cream date when I got there."

"I was in a bad mood; he was trying to make me feel better."

"He was trying to make you feel something," he said, taking the hamburger patties off the grill and putting them onto a plate.

I rolled my eyes but still laughed. "You're horrible."

"And yet you still like me," he said with a cheeky grin. "The question, Miss Rivers, is has this Scott guy ever cooked for you?"

"He made me toast once when I was sick. It was all I could eat, I had a stomach virus."

"He did it out of pity, then, so it doesn't count," he said. "I, on the other hand, made food for you out of the kindness of my heart."

I smiled. "Really? Because I thought men acted out of the 'kindness' of another part of their anatomy?"

He laughed. "Yeah, we do sometimes."

I shook my head. "At least you're willing to admit it."

Tony and I made up the rest of our hamburgers and ate them while watching the end of an episode of 'Mythbusters'. When we were done, he put on a CD of soft jazz music.

"Can I ask you a series question?" he asked as I sat curled up in a corner of his couch.

"Yeah, I guess."

"How could you just leave your parents the way you did?"

"It's hard to explain."

"That seems to be your excuse for everything you don't _want_ to explain."

"You're not adopted so you wouldn't understand."

"What's to understand? They raised you, they're your parents."

"But they're not my _real_ parents, and I always knew that. I never let myself get close to them because I always believed my real mother would come back to get me, or something." I shook my head. "They weren't bad parents, but you have no idea what it's like to be taken from your home and left in an orphanage. And then once you get used to that, to be taken from your own country and moved hundreds of miles away to live with these complete strangers who want you to call them mom and dad and expect you to just accept all of these changes. If you want to know the truth, I think my mother always thought I was a little bit crazy, even when she first got me."

"I don't think so."

"But I do. I've heard Terry talk about you Jayden, and I believe her when she says she fell in love with you the very first time she saw you," he said, staring at me, looking directly into my eyes. "You have a way of making people do that."

"Are _you_ in love with me Tony?"

"Not yet."

"Then don't," I said. "I'm a selfish, whiney kid. And even though I'm twenty, I _am_ still a kid. I don't know what I'm supposed to do, where I'm supposed to go, who I'm supposed to be. I'm a confused, lost little girl. And it's taken me a _long_ time to admit that because I was supposed to be in control. I didn't need or want anyone. But all of that changed and I'm still trying to adjust. So don't fall in love with me. Find a woman that's older, know who she is, where she's going, what she wants, and marry her. Marry her, pop out your seven kids and live happily."

He laughed. "My dad was right, you are feisty," he said. "I say we get married right now. I don't have to have kids; I'll settle for being a very cool uncle."

I smiled. "Why don't we take it one step at a time, eh?"

"And where should we start?"

"You know, I saw that you have 'Bonnie and Clyde' on DVD, why don't we watch that and see where it goes from there?"

He grinned. "I lied; I really am in love with you."

"That's awesome," I said. "Now put on the movie."

He put on the DVD of 'Bonnie and Clyde' and I watched the first thirty minutes before my head started drooping and fell on Tony's shoulder. As I was drifting off to sleep, I had a fleeting thought that Logan wasn't going to be happy with me.

* * *

I was in a room. It was dark.

I couldn't see him immediately, but I could feel that Logan was there. He was in pain. But I couldn't see what was causing it.

I stayed in the darkness, trying desperately to see Logan, when I heard the shuffle of footsteps. The creak of metal. And then the buzz of lights as they began blinking above Logan's head. By the time Stryker reached him, the light had warmed up and was shinning a bright, blinding light, right on him. Finally I could see that the pain was being caused by the ropes tying him up. His ankles were tied together, his wrists were bound behind his back, and there was a thick noose around his neck.

"You're an extraordinary specimen, Weapon X, there's no doubt about that," Stryker said. "We cut you; you heal. We shoot you; you bounce back as if nothing happened. We starve you, we beat you, heat, we even set you on fire a few times. Something we enjoyed much more than you, I'm sure, yes?"

Logan bared his teeth and growled at him. A deep growl that came from low in his chest. One that Stryker felt rumble through the concrete.

He smiled. "I'll take that as a yes," he said. "Like I said, you're an extraordinary specimen. But you see, I'm a scientist and I need to explore every possible option when I'm working on a project. That means when I realize you can't die, I have to find a way to test your limits. And in order to do that, I have to keep you from being able to heal."

I watched as he removed the glasses from his face, breathed on them to create a fog, and wiped them clean with the edge of his shirt before placing them back on.

"Now, if you remember correctly, Weapon X, we gave you a set of pills to take before dinner yesterday evening. One of those was filled with an alloy called carbonadium. I'm not quite sure how familiar you are with it, but when it's in close proximity with the metal we implanted on your bones, adamantium, it weakens your natural mutation, which, as we've found out, is healing. In fact, it weakens it so much that your healing rate will be lowered to the point of a normal human being's," he said. "And since I am a scientist, I need to know how far we can push your mutation. The question, Weapon X, is once your mutation is gone and we kill you, when we remove the carbonadium, can you come back to life?" He gave Logan an evil smile. "Well that's what we're going to find out."

As soon as he was through speaking, he nodded towards the shadows. A few moments later, two men emerged. One held a cooler, the other a portable heater. Without further prompting from Stryker, they both went to work. The man holding the heater, using an extension cord, plugged it in and turned it on. The man with the cooler dropped it right beside Logan and out of it he pulled a large, thick cut block of ice. He moved it under Logan's feet as the other man, done with the heater, forced Logan up onto it by pulling at the noose around his neck. He then secured the rope on an object I couldn't see so that if Logan moved off the ice block, it would tighten and hang him. He then checked the ropes around his wrists to make sure they were tight enough to keep his hands in place; where he couldn't stab himself or anyone else.

Immediately I felt the icy cold sting in his feet and as it ran through the rest of his body.

I felt the tightness of the ropes around his wrists cutting his circulation off, making his hand pale and numb.

I felt the rough fibers of the noose around his neck as it rubbed against his kin, causing friction burns.

I felt all of his pain. All the pain that couldn't heal.

I watched as his feet slipped and struggled to stay put on the already melting ice. And with each movement that caused him to slip, I saw the noose tighten around his neck.

"Remember that this is what you signed up for. And this exercise is going to help us decide if you're worth training or not, Weapon X. Because what's the point of training you if someone as smart as me knows how to kill you?" Stryker asked. "I can't have that. So you see, _I_ have to kill you to make sure that no one else can."

He nodded to his men. The one who had originally been carrying the cooler picked it up and along with the other man, disappeared back into the shadows.

"You are standing on a six inch block of ice," he began. "The heater just a couple of feet away will soon begin to melt it. Every inch that melts will cause the noose around your neck to tighten, slowly choking you." He pushed his glasses that slid down back to the bridge of his nose. "Now you've never shown any desire to speed up the experiments we've performed so far, but I'll blame that on your ignorance and assume that now that you can no longer heal, you may wish to step off the block of ice and hang yourself faster. But let me assure you that there's not enough slack for you to move that far. So you will have to follow through with this experiment as we have it planned."

He took a few steps back, removing himself from the light and retreating to the shadows. All that could be seen of him was the bright lights reflecting from the lenses of his glasses.

"And to make this a little more interesting, I think we'll turn the light out. It'll be less tempting for you to try something foolish if you can't see the ice melting under your feet." I felt him smile. "Now don't disappoint us, Weapon X. It would be a shame if we had to start all over again with a brand new specimen."

I listened as his footsteps faded away. Soon after there was a loud 'click' and the light over Logan's head shut down. The room was thrusted back into darkness. All except from the small amount of light that shone from the portable heater. I saw it reflect back in the ice block as it lit it up. I could see the bottom of Logan's feet, but nothing else. But even though I couldn't see him, I could still feel him. I could feel all the pain that coursed through his body. I could feel the thoughts racing through his mind. I could feel everything. All the pain, the fear, but mostly the anger. No…not anger. It was something stronger. It was an absolute unbridled rage that filled up his whole being.

And I felt it all.

The minutes passed by and I watched in the darkness as the ice began to melt. I heard Logan's feet slip as he tried to keep a good grip. I felt as the noose kept getting tighter around his neck. Time seemed to go by painfully slow as I felt him choking, unable to do anything about it.

But more unexpectedly, as the ice melted and created puddles, the water spread out and leaked its way across the floor, running into the portable heater. Immediately sparks began to fly and the electric current ran through the puddle, up the block of ice and into Logan's body. I listened as he began to shake and convulse. I could smell his skin and hair frying as he was being electrocuted. I felt the pain. And then…

Nothing.

Nothing but blackness.

Nothing but silence.

Nothing but death.

Logan was dead.

I woke up gasping for breath, and the moment air reached my lungs, I screamed. I hadn't meant to scream, but I did it before I could think. I sat up and the moment rational thought came back to me, I stopped. I looked around me, panting and confused. I didn't know where I was. It wasn't until Tony came running out of his bedroom in his pajamas that I remembered I was at his apartment.

"What's wrong? What happened?" he asked, waving his gun around the room, looking for an intruder.

"No, I'm fine, I'm sorry. I just had a vision. I'm really sorry," I said, still trying to catch my breath. "I didn't mean to scare you."

"A vision?" he asked, looking confused and still slightly panicked. "What kind of vision? Like you saw someone get hurt or something?"

I shook my head. "No, it was something different," I said. "I'm sorry. I really didn't mean to wake you up."

He lowered his gun. "What do you mean you saw something else? You just woke up screaming, what did you see?"

"Logan," I said quietly.

"Doing what?"

I looked up at him. "Dying."

He sat down in the chair across from where I sat on his couch. "What do you mean dying?"

"I mean he died."

"Died? Like past tense?"

"Yeah," I said. "What time is it?"

"Past three," he said. "Wait, I'm confused, how could he have died? I mean, he's _not_ dead, he's alive."

"He came back to life," I said, standing. "I have to get home. He's going to be so pissed if he gets there and I'm not in bed." I started looking around for my stuff. "Can you call a cab for me, or something?"

"I can take you," he said. "I'm just really confused right now."

"By what?" I asked, picking up my bag and leather jacket.

"_How_ did he come back to life?"

I let out a sigh and ran my fingers back through my hair. "Logan's a mutant, too. His mutation is healing."

"So he didn't really _die_ then, right?"

"No, he did."

"But if he heals, how could anyone kill him?"

"It's really long and complicated, Tony, okay? But the end of it is that he was electrocuted and died," I said. "Do you mind if I wear these clothes home? I promise I'll give them back to you tomorrow or the next time I see you."

"Yeah, that's fine. Let me put up my gun and grab my keys," he said as he stood up and turned on the living room light. "Do you want to go to the bath -" He stopped mid-sentence. "What the heck happened to your neck?"

I reached up my hand and touched it. Nothing felt different. "I don't know. What's wrong with it?"

"It's bruised," he said. He walked over to me and titled my head back to examine it in the light. "It looks like you've been choked."

I pulled away from him and went to the mirror hanging on his wall. There was a thick, rope shaped bruise around my neck. "I wasn't choked; Logan was."

"Yeah, now I _really_ don't understand and I'm pretty sure it's not because I'm still half asleep."

"I told you earlier tonight that Logan's and my mind are _very_ closely linked. Sometimes I have visions of things that happened to him, bad things. And when that happens, I have a tendency of waking up with physical signs of those visions. He was being hanged in the one I just had," I said. "The bruise on my neck is from the noose."

"But you just said that he was electrocuted."

"He was," I said. "Look, I don't really feel like getting into this right now, but there was a point in his life when he was being detained and tortured. There were people, scientists, trying to turn him into a human weapon. Which eventually backfired on them. But they would test the limits of his mutation. Tonight I saw them take his powers away so they could kill him to see if they could revive him again. They put a noose around his neck, made him stand on a chunk of ice and put a heater in front of it. The idea was to melt the ice and slowly choke him. But when the ice started melting, the water ran to the heater and electrocuted him."

"And you saw that?"

"Well it was dark, but yeah, I saw some of it."

"Do you usually see stuff like that?"

"I've learned to control a lot of them, the ones that have already happened, but sometimes they break through and I can't do anything about it," I said. "I don't mean to be rude, but I really do have to go. Logan told me to be home before him and he'll probably be there pretty soon."

He nodded. "Yeah, let me put on my shoes and get my keys."

He left and went back to his bedroom. I pulled my eyes away from the mirror reflecting the bruise around my neck long enough to find my sneakers and stuff my clothes into my bag. I tried to act okay, but the truth was; I was still shook up. The visions I had of Logan were usually of him be tortured. This was only the second time I had seen him die and it wasn't something I was eager to ever watch again. I just wanted to get home and see him alive and well.

I pulled on my leather jacket and zipped it up, trying to cover the bruise on my neck. Then I dug around in my bag to find my phone. After a couple of minutes, I finally found it at the bottom and checked the time. It was seventeen after three in the morning. Tony's apartment was about thirty minutes from the mansion. We were really going to have to hurry in order to get there just before Logan. Assuming he would be there a little after four, and not sooner. So as soon as Tony was ready, we got in his car and left.

He drove as fast as he could, but somehow we managed to hit every red light between his home and the school. It was at this point that I realized that I _really_ should have gone to the bathroom before we left. And as I bounced my legs and tried to think of something else, Tony apparently felt the need to make noises like the sound of water falling. Fifteen minutes of his imitations of a river and one punch to the shoulder later, he stopped making the sounds and instead complained about how hard I had hit him, saying he could charge me with assaulting a police officer. But when I told him that if he didn't shut up and drive and get me home as soon as possible, Logan was going to do more than assault him, he stopped complaining.

When we reached the school, he gave me a kiss on the cheek and told me he would call me later. Then he said he'd wait until I got in before leaving. I ran up to the front door and dug around for my keys. But since the attack on the mansion a couple of years before, the security system had been updated. So when going through the front door after midnight, you needed more than just a key; it required a fingerprint and eye scan. And since I was bouncing around on the steps like an idiot in order to keep from peeing all over myself, it took me three times to get the eye scan to work so that the door would unlock. When it did, I turned around, gave a small wave to Tony, the closed the door and locked it behind me. Then I ran up the stairs and to my room as quickly and quietly as I could. When I got there, I dropped my bag and ran to my bathroom. When I was done, I changed out of Tony's clothes and into my own pajamas. I messed up my bed like I had been sleeping in it, then took my pillows and went to Logan's room. He thankfully wasn't there yet, so I crawled in his bed and lay down.

I had done well with sleeping on my own since the beginning of the year. But there were still some nights when I didn't want to be by myself and I needed him with me. So I lay there and waited for him to get home. Which only took about ten more minutes. I heard his car pull up outside. There were a few minutes of silence before I heard him walking down the hall. I listened as he kept walking past his door and to mine. He opened the door, shut it and then walked back to his room.

"How long have you been in here?" he asked as he walked in and saw that I was awake.

"Not long," I said. "I had a vision and didn't want to be by myself tonight."

"What'd you see?"

I sat up in his bed as he pulled off his boots at the door. "You."

"Doin' what?"

"They tried to hang you, and then you ended up getting electrocuted."

"That where the bruise around your neck came from?" he asked, moving over to the bed.

I nodded. "Yeah."

"Does it hurt?"

"No."

"Good," he said. "What time did you get home?"

I shrugged. "I don't know, a while ago," I lied.

"What was so important that Tony couldn't tell you at the bar?"

"He said they found the gun used to shoot Hank. The gun was registered but it had been stolen and probably resold. But they did find a bigger fingerprint on it."

"Did they run it?"

"Yeah."

"Did they find who shot him, then?" he asked, pulling his white T-shirt over his head.

"No, he's not in the system."

"So they got nothing then, right?"

"Pretty much."

"I wouldn't worry too much about it, darlin'. I'm sure they'll find him eventually," he said. "Are you gonna be all right if I get in the shower?"

"Yeah, I'll be fine."

He went into his bathroom and I lay back down. I listened as the water ran while he took his shower. And a few minutes later he emerged wearing sweatpants and a wife beater.

"So, what'd you do at his apartment?" he asked, getting into bed beside me.

"He made hamburgers and then we watched 'Bonnie and Clyde'."

"Did he try anything?"

I shook my head. "No."

"Good."

"How did the fights go?"

"Okay until I was leavin'."

"Why? What happened then?"

"Some drunk jackass hit me over the head with a beer bottle."

"What did you do?"

"Punched him. Then he fell over."

"I'm surprised you didn't break his arm."

"Not over a broken beer bottle, kid. Besides, he was about too drunk to stand up, he didn't know what he was doin'."

"Did you get cut, or anything?"

"A couple of scrapes, nothing bad. I had a piece of glass that got stuck in my hair fall down and cut my eye open while I was drivin' home, but it healed right up."

"Good," I said. "I don't like you getting hurt."

"I'm fine," he said. "Come here."

I moved over to him and lay my head on his chest. He pulled the blankets up to my shoulders and wrapped his arm around me.

"I missed you while you were gone yesterday," I said.

"Yeah, I'm sorry I wasn't here," he said. "Scott told me you were pretty torn up."

"I wasn't torn up. I was more in shock than anything. And today I was just angry." I let out a sigh. "But I was angry about more than just Hank."

"So you weren't scared?"

"No…well, I mean, yeah, a little bit to begin with. It was so unexpected. I just heard the gunshots and I dropped. I didn't even think."

"You did what you were supposed to do."

"I know. But when I looked up and I saw Hank bleeding…I was terrified. And then something just snapped and I moved without thinking. I don't even know what I did now. I was running on pure instinct and adrenaline. It wasn't until I got to the waiting room that I had finally had time to think about it."

He rubbed my shoulder. "You did good though, baby," he said. "I'm proud of you."

"Thank you," I said, snuggling up closer to him. "I love you, Logan."

He gave me a kiss on the top of my head. "I love you, too," he said. "Now go to sleep."

I fell asleep for the second time that night thinking that everything was going to work itself out. Logan was home, Hank was going to be okay, and even though there were no suspects right then, Tony and his partner seemed dedicated to the case. It wasn't perfect or ideal, but it was a start. And I couldn't wait for things to start getting back to normal.


	16. Falling Into Place

Disclaimer: I don't own the rights to Marvel or X-Men, but I do own all of my mistakes. Unfortunately. This chapter was meant to go up yesterday but the electricity went out at my house and didn't come back on until early this morning, and when it did the internet got all screwed up. So, finally, here's the new chapter. Enjoy!

* * *

Three weeks after the shooting, things had completely changed. Hank had been released into Jean's care, school had started back at the mansion and I had temporarily quit my job so that I could help Hank out with his classes until he was well enough to teach on his own again. I was given more responsibility that I had ever had at the school before and I was treated just like one of the teachers. That meant that I was held to the same standards as them, as well. And since I wasn't trained to actually teach, I was there to help pick up everyone else's slack.

So when Hank wasn't teaching, I was running between Logan's, Scott's, Ororo's and Jean's classes, doing what I could to help. It amazed me how one person, like Hank, could be injured and the whole school seemed to fall apart. But as a family we banded together and my part was to help whoever I could, whenever they needed it. Which explained the reason why I was sitting in Scott's classroom on a Saturday afternoon helping him sort out the school's bills.

"So what am I supposed to be doing again?" I asked.

"There's a sheet of paper that has the totals for all the checks we've written for last month. I need you to go through the stacks of paper on your left and when you see a copy of a check with the total that matches that on the sheet of paper with all the totals, put a mark beside it," Scott explained.

"What kind of mark?"

"An 'X' or a checkmark, whatever you want."

I smiled. "What if I want to put a heart beside them?"

He laughed. "Whatever you feel comfortable with, Rivers. I just need to be able to read it when you're done."

"Can do, Summers," I said, going to work on the stack of papers he had set out for me. What he wanted me to do wasn't actually very hard, it just took time to go through all of the papers to find the right totals. After a few minutes I held up the paper and showed it to him. "Is this right?"

He studied it for a moment before nodding. "Yeah, just keep doing that," he said, then looked back to his own papers.

We spent the next thirty minutes sorting through the bills, with me stopping every few minutes so my eyes wouldn't go blurry from staring at the same numbers over and over again. I was helping Scott clean up his desk when there was a knock on his classroom door.

"Come in," he called out, placing a stack of folders into a box.

"Hey – wow, nice cars," Tony said as he opened the door and looked around at the pictures covering the walls.

"Thanks," Scott said, he voice void of anything by annoyance. "What can I do for you Detective De Luca?"

"Actually, I'm here to see Jayden."

I looked up at him and he smiled. "What do you need?"

"You."

"To do what?"

"Come down to the station with me?"

"Can it wait?" I asked. "I'm supposed to help Logan set up the new obstacle course before Monday. The kids broke the old one to pieces over the summer."

"You have your own obstacle course here?"

"For phys-ed, yeah."

"That's awesome."

I laughed. "Yeah, I guess. But I don't have to run it every day; the students may feel differently about it," I said. "So do you mind if I come down to the station later tonight?"

"Well, you _could_ but I have wonderful, _wonderful_ news," he said with a smile.

"Okay…" I looked at him. "Are you going to tell me what it is?"

"Oh, right, we've found Dr. McCoy's shooter."

"Seriously?"

"Yeah."

"Who is it?" Scott asked.

"Her name is Hilary Garretson."

"A woman shot him?"

"Sort of," he said.

Scott gave him a look. "What do you mean 'sort of'?"

"I don't know that I would call her a woman; she's only sixteen."

"She's a kid. Why would she do that?" I asked.

"We're not real sure."

"Did you _ask_ her?"

"No, not yet. She doesn't think we know her fingerprints were on the gun yet."

"Why does she think she's down there then?" Scott asked.

"She thinks we're just re-interviewing her about what she. Police officers spoke to her when they were taking everyone's statements right after the shooting, so we told her we just needed to go back over what she said to see if she remembered anything else about that day."

"But how did you find her? You had next to no evidence," I said.

"It was purely keen detective work, all on my part," he said with a bright smile. I cocked my eyebrow at him. "Okay, her therapist called and reported her."

"Whatever happened to doctor-patient privileges?"

"Shrinks are allowed to alert authorities if they suspect their patients have committed or are going to commit a crime," he said. "She tipped us off, we picked her up and brought her down to the station. We gave her something to drink while we were talking to her and then we lifted the prints off the can. When it came back a positive match for the ones on the shell casings and the gun, I came to get you."

"Why?"

"I thought you could use your intuitive…whatever, and listen in on our interrogation to help us figure out what to do to nail her. Because right now all we have is her fingerprint. Nothing short of an actual confession is going to convince a judge, let alone a full jury, that she's committed a crime."

"Not to mention the fact that she's sixteen and most jurors wouldn't think that a kid that age should be held responsible for shooting a mutant. There may be a few that would feel for Hank's side, but I doubt it would be enough to sway all twelve of them," Scott said. "You're right; without a confession, she's walking."

"Okay, so this Hilary chick shoots Hank, ditches the gun, gives police a false statement, hides out for three weeks and _only_ gets picked up because her shrink tipped you off," I said.

"And keen detective work," Tony added.

I ignored him. "But _how_ did it happen? _Why_ did she do this? She's sixteen; she has her whole life ahead of her, _what_ happened?"

"We're not sure. Her dad's an accountant and her mom's a kindergarten teacher, and she's an only child. She does well in school, she's apparently _very_ bright, never been in any trouble. As far as we can tell, up until this point, she's been a pretty good kid."

"Maybe she fell in with the wrong crowd at school, became part of a gang, and shot Hank as part of an initiation. I've heard of kids doing worse," Scott said.

"Good theory, but she went to an all girl's school, it was probably pretty tame."

"Girl's schools are a lot worse than people think. I went to one my whole life and I wouldn't be surprised if more than a couple of those girls turned out to be psycho killers," I said. "Girl gangs aren't unheard of."

"Were you part of an all girl gang?" Tony asked, smiling at me.

"Oh yeah, I was the leader," I said, rolling my eyes.

Scott let out a sigh and stood up from his desk. "Jayden, why don't you go down to the station with him? I'll help Logan with the obstacle course."

"But I thought you had to take Jean to her doctor's appointment today?" I said, following his lead and standing.

"It's not until two, if I'm not finished by then, Ororo can take her."

"But 'Ro's taking Hank to physical therapy."

"Bobby can take him. Rogue and the Professor can keep up with the kids while Logan and I work," he said. "This case means something to you; you need to be there when it's closed."

"Are you sure?"

He nodded. "Yeah. Go on. I'll find Logan and tell him what's going on. Just get ready and go."

"Thank you," I said. "I owe you, Scott."

He smiled. "Yeah, you do, and I'm going to remember it."

"I'll try to be back as soon as I can, okay?"

"Don't worry about it. Go, be safe, do what you have to do, and just get back here when you can. If they need you there for a while, then like I said; Storm can take Jean to the doctor."

I nodded. "All right, I have to go to my room. Tony you can stay here with Scott if you want. I'll just take a few minutes."

Scott gave him an amused look. "Yeah Tony, why don't you stay here? We can get to know each other a little better."

"Uh, okay."

I smiled. "Behave yourself."

I left Scott's class room and ran up to my bedroom. I had been running around in just a tank top and a pair of shorts all morning, but the weather was getting cold as we neared the mid-way mark of September, and shorts weren't going to cut it. Instead I pulled on a pair of jeans, traded my tank top for a purple T-shirt and slipped on my leather jacket before grabbing the nearest pair of shoes, a pair of Frye boots, and pulled them on, tucking my jeans into them. I wrapped a long, thin, black and grey striped scarf around my neck and grabbed my bag, then headed back downstairs. I met Hank at the bottom.

"You're all dressed up," he said, hobbling towards me with his cane. "Where are you going?"

"I'm going down to the station with Tony."

"For any specific reason?"

"Yeah. They think they've found the person who shot you."

"Is that so?"

I nodded. "Yeah."

"And they need you assistance to identify him?"

"Not quite. They already have the suspect down there; they just want me to listen in on the interrogation to help them get her to confess."

"Her? It was a woman?"

"A girl," I corrected. "She's sixteen."

"My word, she's just a child. What on earth would motivate someone that young to do such a thing?"

I shook my head. "I don't know, Hank, I honestly don't."

"Well how did they find her?"

"According to Tony, she said something to her therapist that made her think that she was involved in it, so they picked her up and matched her fingerprints to the one they found on the gun."

"Was she attending therapy sessions _before_ the shooting, or did she only start them afterwards?"

"I don't know, he didn't say. Why?"

"If she was attending them before then, perhaps she has a history of mental or emotional problems that could help explain why someone so young would do something like that," he said. "See what Tony and his partner can get from the therapist without breaking confidentiality laws. Perhaps even her parents might be able to help fill in the blanks for you."

"Well right now I don't really know what the blanks are," I said. "Because I'm not getting any feelings about her from here and all Tony's been able to tell me is that she's a smart kid, has good parents and hasn't had any problems in school. Until I can actually see her, _feel_ her, then all I have is what Tony tells me and none of it makes sense."

"Crimes rarely do, I'm afraid," he said. "Are you leaving now?"

"Yeah, we were planning on it. Why?"

"I've just finished baking chocolate muffins; I thought you might like one. I was actually on my way to tell you when you came down."

"Okay, I'm going to get Tony and we'll swing by the kitchen before we leave."

He nodded. "All right, you had better hurry, then."

I left Hank at the bottom of the stairs and walked back to Scott's classroom. I wasn't exactly sure _what_ I had expected to see when I walked in, but it definitely wasn't Scott and Tony talking about Scott's cars and looking quite chummy.

"You have an Aston Martin? Like an actual James Bond car?" Tony asked.

"Yeah."

"What year?"

"Sixty-two."

"Color?"

"Dove Grey."

"That's awesome," he said, looking over at me. "Did you know about this?"

"Yeah, I wanted it but he wouldn't let me have it," I said. "He told me I couldn't have his 'baby'."

"Are you kidding me? If it was mine, I couldn't let anyone have it either."

"It's a _car_."

"It's a classic, a _James Bond_ car, do you know how cool that is?"

"I'm sorry; I thought you were an _adult_?"

"You don't understand. I have always wanted an Aston Martin."

"Super," I said dryly. "Don't you have to be back at work, or do they care that you're missing?"

"They probably really don't care, but I guess we should go. Are you ready?"

"Yeah, we just have to go by the kitchen before we leave."

"If you're hungry I can get you a hamburger when we get to the station."

"Well Hank made muffins and I told him I would get one as we were leaving."

"He makes muffins?" Tony asked.

"Some of the best," Scott answered, picking up the box on his desk.

"Seriously, he puts Otis Spunkmeyer to shame," I said.

Scott laughed. "I'm not sure which is sadder; the fact that you know who it is, or the fact that not only do I know who it is, but agree with you," he said.

"It's not sad for me. My mom doesn't know how to bake. When I lived with her and dad, desserts usually consisted of their muffins or Ben and Jerry's. Not that I'm complaining. I would almost rather eat broken glass and chase it down with straight up gasoline than to eat any of her sweets."

"Terry can't honestly be _that_ bad of a cook," Tony said. "You're just exaggerating."

"Not really. When I went to their house to invite Jayden to live here I stayed and ate dinner with them. She cooked what I _assumed_ was meatloaf, but I wasn't real sure. I've never tasted anything like it," Scott said, the looked over at me. "No offence."

"None taken. And yes; it _was_ meatloaf," I said. "But whatever, we need to go."

"Be careful," Scott told me.

"I will," I said, giving him a kiss on the cheek. "I'll see you later. Bye."

He said bye to Tony and me and then we left for the kitchen. Hank had put a few muffins into a bag for us and sent us on our way. The whole drive to the station I listened as Tony raved about the chocolate muffins as he stuffed one after another in his mouth. But when he got chocked on his forth one, he stopped and gave the nearly empty bag back to me. When we got to the station, he led me to the second floor and right back to the room that separated the rest of the station from the interrogation room. I looked in the double sided mirror and saw a young blonde haired girl with green eyes looking perfectly natural as she spoke with Tony's partner Dave.

"Look, my captain doesn't know you're here, so for future reference, you weren't here, you've never seen her and you didn't hear anything she's going to say from here on out. Do you understand?"

I nodded. "Yeah."

"Good," he said. "Now go in there and talk to her."

"Wait, what?"

"Go talk to her. Get her vibes, or whatever it is you do."

"And what am I meant to say, exactly? 'Hello, my name's Jayden, you shot my friend. Could you please confess?' I somehow think that _wouldn't_ work."

"Fine. Then go in there, pretend to be Dave's daughter, tell him his wife called, let him excuse himself and _then_ you talk to her."

"What makes you think I won't screw it up, eh? What if I say something wrong that makes her suspicious and she decides to leave?"

"If she tries leaving, we'll arrest her."

"And then she'll call her lawyer and you won't be able to get the information you need."

"Without you, we don't have _anything_, Jayden. Do you understand that she shot your friend and she could walk?" he asked, looking more serious than I had ever seen him. "She doesn't fit the profile of someone who commits crimes like these. She should be worrying about what dress to wear to homecoming and who she's going to have as a date. This is _not_ a girl who should be out shooting people on the roof of a super market. The evidence doesn't give us anymore, _I_ can't give us anymore, you're all we have left."

"Well that doesn't make me feel stressed at all. Now I know if she walks it's only my fault. Thanks for the pep-talk, Tony," I said sarcastically, rolling my eyes.

"You're welcome," he called after me as I pulled open the door to the interrogation room.

Immediately, I felt my head begin to pound. But unlike the first time I had been in one of their interrogation rooms and fell completely apart as everything overloaded my brain, this time I knew it was going to hurt, so I fought it off. I pushed it all away and put up as many blocks in my mind to keep it from causing a repeat performance of the first time where I was incapable of doing anything. The feeling was still there, only it wasn't as painful as before. It was just an annoying buzz in the back of my head.

"Hey dad," I said, walking over to Detective O'Reily. "I didn't mean to interrupt, but Tony said I could come in. Mom sent me down here to see when you were coming home."

"Hey sweetie," he said, smiling up at me. He had obviously caught on to what I was doing. "I probably won't be home for a few more hours. Did she need me?"

"She said the two of you were supposed to go shopping for Grandpa's birthday present today, or something," I lied, hoping it didn't sound as lame as I thought it did.

"Okay. Well, this is Hilary Garretson, she's been really great and she's helping us out a lot, can you stay here and keep her company while I go call your mom and work this out with her?"

"Yeah, that's fine," I said, sitting down in his chair as he moved to leave the room.

"I'll be right back," he said, giving me a wink as he left.

"Hi," I said to Hilary. "I'm Jayden."

"It's nice to meet you."

I studied her for a moment. She appeared relaxed, at east, and completely pulled together. But on the inside, she was torn apart. She felt guilty, angry, sad, confused. There was almost a sense of hopelessness about her. I just wasn't sure why.

"So you're helping my dad out with a case, huh?"

"Yeah."

"Which one?"

"The one where a mutant was shot," she said, tucking her hair behind her ears nervously. "You were there, weren't you? You were with man who was shot."

I gave her a smile. "Am I that easy to recognize?"

She nodded. "Yeah, I remember hearing you screaming. I still hear it sometimes when I'm trying to go to sleep."

"I'm sorry. I was just a little scared. I had never seen that much blood."

"Me either," she said. "What were you doing with that man anyway?"

"He's a friend of mine."

"Is he okay? They said he wasn't dead, but they didn't tell me how he was, or anything."

"He's learning how to walk again," I said, exaggerating only a little. "He's going to physical therapy to help, but he's still struggling a bit. He's also having a hard time with his arm. But he's recovering."

"That's good."

"So where were you when the shots were fired? I mean, you weren't in the way or anything, were you?"

"No, I wasn't anywhere near you, I could just hear you," she said.

"Good. I'm glad you didn't get hurt."

She let out a breath. "I don't even know why I'm down here. I told the police when I saw. I don't know what else they want."

"Sometimes you can remember things better after they happen, once the shock wears off."

"Well I don't _remember_ anything new, but I've been here for like, over an hour. I told them what I know, why can't I go home?"

"I know it probably seems like you've been going though the same stuff over and over again, but sometimes when you repeat a situation out loud, you tend to remember more."

"Are you a police officer, or something?"

I laughed. "Sorry, no. But, you know, when your dad's a cop, you can't help but pick things up," I lied with a smile.

She nodded. "Did you remember anything new after it happened?"

I shook my head. "No, I didn't ever remember anything new. I actually don't remember a lot of what happened that day, to be quite honest," I said as the door opened and Dave walked back in. "Did you get everything settled with mom?"

"Yeah, we're going to go find Grandpa a present tomorrow. But she wants to take you and the rest of the girls out for lunch, so she needs to go home."

"Okay," I said, standing. "Bye dad."

"Bye sweetheart," he said, giving me a light kiss on the top of my head. "I'll see you when I get home tonight."

"Yeah, all right," I said. "Bye Hilary, it was nice meeting you."

"You too," she said.

I left the room and walked back out into the one with Tony. "Well she's a liar," he said as I joined him in front of the mirror.

"Yeah, but she didn't do it."

"What do you mean?"

"She feels guilty and she was involved, but she didn't do it. Not on her own anyway."

"So you think she _was_ part of a gang then?"

"Not quite, no, I'm thinking more along the lines of a boyfriend," I said, staring at her through the double sided mirror. "Maybe he was into some pretty bad things, maybe he even stole the gun himself and then they shot Hank. Or one of them did, I'm not sure. But she's conflicted. She _wants_ to tell what happened, but she's scared."

"Okay, so she's dating some roughneck who uses mutants as target practice. Maybe he threatened to hurt her if she went to the police."

"Maybe," I said. "But she's from a nice family, maybe her parents don't know he's her boyfriend because they wouldn't approve. Being scared of what her parents might do to her if they found out could be motive enough to keep her mouth shut."

"She lied to you in there, though. At first when you said you had never seen that much blood before, she said she hadn't either. Then she changed it and said she wasn't close enough to see you, only hear you." He shook his head. "If she didn't run when the police got there, maybe her boyfriend didn't either."

I looked over at him. "Why don't you take all the men who gave you statements that are between the ages of eighteen and thirty, run their names and see which ones who have records? I have a very good feeling that this guy does. You can nail her with his name."

"Yeah, we'll run them," he said. "What else did you get from her?"

"She's getting tired and that's making her nervous. She's afraid she's going to slip up, which she already did. You need to change tactics with her. Either go easier and get her mind off the case completely, or really start interrogating her," I said. "She was involved, but I don't think she wanted to be. She's not who you want. You want the guy she was with."

"Are you _positive_ she was with her boyfriend?"

"No, he could have been a random stranger. But she was on the roof with a guy. I'm absolutely positive of that." I shook my head as I tried to make sense of the broken images, sounds and thoughts going through my mind, filtering them until I had something useful. I looked over at Tony. "She didn't shoot him," I said, everything starting to click. "Whoever the guy was, he shot Hank. Her prints are on the gun because he was…selling it to her."

"Wait, she was buying a gun off the street? Why?"

"I don't know. But she was trying to buy the gun from him, he asked if she wanted to try it out before she bought and she told him she didn't know how to shoot it, she just wanted it to scare burglars, or something. But she was lying."

"Why did she really want it?"

I shook my head. "I don't know. But he told her he would show her how to hold it. So he did. He was standing behind her, _her_ hands were on the gun, his hands were over hers, but when Hank came out, _he_ pulled the trigger. She didn't shoot him, he did, both times. Then he ran. She was scared so she grabbed the shells and the gun, but dropped the shells as she ran. She climbed down from the roof, hid the gun in the dumpster at the back of the store. She didn't know what else to do, so she stayed and talked to the cops when they got there," I said. "She didn't mean for any of it to happen, but once it did, she was too scared to tell. Up until today, she thought he was dead. That's why she feels guilty."

"So how did she find this guy, then? If he's not her boyfriend, who is he?"

I searched my mind, trying to find who he was, but I couldn't. I let out a sigh. "I have no idea."

"You know, what you do really is amazing, Jayden. We would never be able to solve this without you. So thank you."

"Don't thank me; you haven't solved it yet."

"But we're close."

I gave him a weak smile. "I'm going to go outside for a minute, okay? I just need some fresh air."

"Yeah, that's fine. I'll come get you if we need you."

I left the room and made my way downstairs. No one seemed to notice me as I exited the building and walked right out into a sudden rainstorm. The rain splashed across my face, rolling down my neck and into the collar of my T-shirt. I didn't care that I was getting wet, as a matter of a fact, it felt good. It made the moment real. I had spent the last three weeks doing my best to prepare myself for Tony to tell me that they couldn't find anyone, it was a cold case, and they had to move on. I knew that there wasn't enough evidence to name a suspect. So I had accepted the fact that it would never be solved.

But it had been.

In some odd twist of fate, Hilary had been handed to the police and she was emotionally vulnerable for me to get a good enough reading from her to be able to help fill in the blanks. It was all happening and I could feel it. I felt it in every drop of rain, every bone in my body, every part of my heart.

And it felt good.

* * *

An hour and a half later, Tony and Dave had both worked Hilary Garretson to the point of confession. She told them that she was working on an essay to send out to colleges the next year to try to get early admission and wanted to do something fresh and interesting. She had read an article in a magazine that had said it was easier to buy a gun than get a restraining order. Using that as her basis, she wanted to see how easy it was to buy a gun illegally. So she found a seller, met up with him and planned to buy a gun before turning it and the seller over to the police. She hadn't meant for anyone to get hurt, but when he shot Hank, she went into shock and was scared she would get caught. So she lied to the police. But after a week of having nightmares, her parents forced her to see a therapist, where she let one too many secrets slip. So she told them what she knew of the man who had shot Hank, they found a man fitting his description and with a record of robberies and selling guns illegally. They brought him in and Hilary identified him. At half past noon, they were both being changed and Tony was taking me home.

"You did really great today," he said, pulling up in front of the school.

"I'll let you buy me a thank you dinner later," I said with a laugh.

"Okay."

"I'm being serious."

"And so am I," he said, leaning in close to me. "If it wasn't for you, we wouldn't have been able to have solved this case this quickly, if at all. You have no idea how much you've helped us."

"Well I was quite serious about that thank you dinner. I like Italian and Chinese food, in case you were wondering."

He kept leaning in, moving his mouth close to mine. "That's good," he said. "Maybe you can come over to my apartment and we can order some."

"Why? Don't you want to be seen in public with me?" I teased with a smile.

He smiled back. "No, I don't mind that at all," he said. "Do you know how I describe you to other people?"

"A cute but odd and crazy psychopath?"

He laughed. "No, but I'll remember that for next time."

"Then how do you describe me, Mr. De Luca?"

"I say you're like a lollipop with a razor blade on the inside."

"Why?"

"Because you're sweet, but you have an unexpected bite."

"I have no idea what you're talking about," I said, laughing. "But no one has ever compared me to a lollipop _or_ a razor blade, so you get points for being original at least."

He smiled wide. "It's a compliment. It means you're spunky."

"That's very sweet," I said. "But are you ever going to stop talking and just kiss me?"

"What makes you think I want to?"

"Because it's what you've wanted to do for the past month but you haven't because you thought it would be unprofessional."

"Well, since you know all that, why don't you stop talking and let me kiss you?"

He leaned in closer and pressed his mouth to mine in a soft kiss. He moved his lips against my own in such a way that my breath left me. I was so caught up in the moment, paying attention to Tony only, that when there was a banging on the car window, it scared me. I pulled away and looked up to see Logan standing beside the car.

"Out. Now," he demanded. I opened the door and stepped out of the car. He pointed at Tony. "You, leave."

I waved to him before he left and then began walking towards the school, still feeling like I was on cloud nine. Until Logan started following behind me. Then he let out a long string of swearwords. "What the heck was he doin'?"

"Kissing me. What did it look like?"

"It looked like he was wantin' the crap kicked out of him."

"Because he _kissed_ me?" I asked, climbing the stairs to the front door.

"Yeah, 'cause he was kissin' you. What kind of an idiot is dumb enough to make-out with you in front of your home, knowin' I'm here?" he asked, walking into the house.

"I'm not positive, but I'm pretty sure he wasn't thinking about you while he was kissing me. Because that would be a little awkward if he was."

"I'm bein' serious, kid."

"I am, too. I would rather not have anyone thinking about my father while they're kissing me. Even though you are a very attractive man," I said, but he stood there with a stoic look on his face. "Come on, it's a joke."

"But I ain't jokin' around. I don't want you around him anymore. He's too old for you."

"He's thirty-one."

"And you're twenty," he said. "He's too old."

"If we're going to talk about age, then let's talk about the fact that Rogue's two years older than me," I said. "So if she's not too young for you, a man who's probably older than Father Christmas, I don't think an eleven year age gap is that big of a deal."

"And me and Rogue don't sit out in the driveway kissin' where you could walk up and see us, either."

"That's because the two of you _don't_ kiss," I said. "And don't blame that on me. I've finally accepted your relationship; so any problems you have here on out aren't my fault."

"I never said they were," he said, following me as I walked up the stairs.

"Besides, it's not like Tony and I are even dating. We just kissed. That was it."

"No, you never _just_ kiss with a man. They want other things, kid. All of 'em."

"Even you?"

"Yeah, even me sometimes," he said, walking with me down the student's wing.

"And you think poor, little ole' me is either going to be too naïve be too weak as a woman to decide what I want to do on my own?"

He gave me the eyebrow. "You wanna quit twistin' my words?"

"You want to spit out what you're actually trying to say?"

"I'm not sayin' you're naïve _or_ weak. I know you can take care of yourself, I don't worry about that."

"Then what _are_ you worried about, exactly? You should be happy that I'm not scared of people and getting close to them. Can't you just be proud of me for once, instead of telling me I can't do something?"

"All right, I'm proud of you," he said. "But I still know what guys like him want."

"And you assume, because I'm young, I'll just give it to him?"

"No. I think he knows how to talk and he knows what to say to make you think he's in love with you and it all means something."

I gave him a small smile. "Logan, I do know how to tell when someone's lying, you know?"

"Yeah, I know, but sometimes you can get into things."

"Like what?" I asked, turning down the hall of the teacher's wing.

"_Things_," he said. "You can get caught up and don't stop to think about what you're doin' and you end up makin' mistakes. It doesn't matter how smart you are."

I didn't say anything as I walked to my room. When I got to my door, I paused and looked up at him. "Are you trying to have the sex talk with me?"

"No," he said quickly. Then he looked down at me with his eyebrow arched high on his forehead. "Why? Do you need it?"

I did my best to suppress a laugh, but couldn't help the smile that broke out across my face. "No, that's quite all right," I said. "My mother told me all about how the man plants a seed in the woman's stomach and waters it, and the flower grows, turning into a baby."

"She did not."

"Yes she did. I had to look up reproduction Encyclopedia to figure out how it actually worked."

He shook his head. "No wonder you're screwed up; your mother explained sex like it's gardenin'."

"It's _not_ like gardening?" I asked jokingly with a smile.

"Do you like gardenin'?"

"No."

"Then it's exactly like it." I laughed and shook my head. "Whose clothes are you wearin'?" he asked, noticing the NYPD shirt peaking out from behind my leather jacket and the sweatpants tucked into my boots.

"Oh, the shirt's Tony's and the pants are Detective O'Reily's."

"Why are you wearin' 'em?"

"I was outside when it started raining. I got soaked, so they let me borrow some of the clothes they had in their lockers. It was very sweet of them."

"I'm sure," he said dully.

"Who do you hate him?"

"Who?"

"Tony."

"I don't hate him," he said. "I've got better people to hate other than him."

I let out a sigh. "Why do you severely dislike him, then?"

"'Cause I don't want some punk kid makin' out with you."

"We _weren't_ making out, and you didn't like him before then. Why?"

"I just don't, okay?"

"No, not okay. Why is it that you hate me being in love with Scott, but when I'm finally interested in someone other than him, you want to pull me away from it? I don't understand what you want?"

"I don't want you to date, that's what I want, all right? And it's never gonna matter how old he is, what he does for a livin', or who he is, I just don't want you datin'. It may not be fair, but _that's_ what I want."

"Why?"

"'Cause I told you; I know what guys want. And yeah, there may be a few decent ones out there, but only a few and until you can find one, I don't want you datin' other idiots."

"Tony's not an idiot."

"Yeah, well, that's debatable."

"You know, I've been here for like, ten minutes and you haven't asked me one thing about Hank's case. All you've done is complained about me kissing Tony."

"Scooter already told me they found the girl who did it."

"Well, Scooter didn't know all the details because she _didn't_ shoot him. She was just there when it happened."

"Why was she there?"

I let out a sigh. "She wanted to write an essay for college and thought that writing it on the accessibility of illegal handguns would be a great topic, but she just needed to do a bit of research, so she tried buying one. The seller thought it would be best if he showed her how well it worked and used Hank for a target as he came out. She got caught up in it and was too scared to tell the police what really happened."

"Did they find the guy who did it, then?"

"Yeah, they found him and brought him in. He and the girl were both being charged as Tony and I left."

"So did she tell 'em that's what she had been doin' or you?"

"I figured a bit of it out, but I completely missed the whole college thing. Once they started telling her what I had told them about what happened, she pretty much confessed to everything."

"So you helped 'em solve it, then?"

I shrugged. "Kind of, I guess."

He nodded. "Good job, darlin'."

I smiled at him. "Thanks," I said. "Do you still need me to help you with the obstacle course, or are you done for today?"

"Actually we got the whole thing done, so you don't have to help me with it anymore."

"You guys got the whole thing set up even with it raining as hard as it was?"

"It didn't rain here. At least not where we were workin' anyway."

"So Storm kept it from raining here but it was pouring downtown. How lovely," I said dryly. "Well, since I'm not needed, I'm going to take a shower and attempt to find _something_ productive to do."

"It's your day off."

"I know, but I haven't had a day off in like, three weeks. I don't know what to even do anymore."

"Why don't you try to enjoy it?"

"Yeah," I said, ruffling the back of my hair. "Yeah, I'll do that."

He bent and gave me a kiss on my forehead. "Go take a shower and relax for a while, or something. I'll see you at dinner."

"All right. Love you."

He gave me a wink. "Right back at'cha, kid."

I watched him leave and then went into my room for a bath. I took off my leather jacket and pulled my boots off before going into my bathroom and started filling my tub up with water. I was pouring in some bubble bath when I heard my cell phone right. I went back into my room and found my phone in my bag.

"Hello?" I answered.

"Miss Rivers, I was just driving along in my car and once I got over your father scaring the crap out of me, I realized I couldn't stop thinking about you," Tony said.

I smiled. "Really? And what have you been thinking about?"

"I have tomorrow off. I thought maybe I could take you up on that thank you dinner."

"Well I don't know, you really pissed Logan off by kissing me."

"That's why I know I must be absolutely crazy. Because even though I'm constantly waiting for him to murder me, I _still_ want to spend time with you."

"What? You're not tired of me yet?"

"Not yet, no," he said. "So what do you say? Go out with me tomorrow? I'll cook for you and we can watch a movie. And maybe you can stay awake this time."

"Tell me what you want from, be completely honest, no bull, and I'll give you my answer."

"Jayden, all I want right now is to just spend time with you."

"Okay, now define 'spending time' with me."

He laughed. "Are you serious?"

I walked back to my bathroom and shut the water off in my tub. Then I sat on the edge of it. "I'm very serious. If I don't know what your intentions are, how can I lay down the rules?"

"You're going to give me rules?"

"Once I know what you want from me, yeah."

"Okay, so I guess I would define spending time with you as eating together, watching movies, going on dates, talking together. I don't know."

"Talking, really? Because I thought that men like to do _other_ things with their mouths."

He laughed. "Well we enjoy that too, yeah. And I wouldn't mind trying it out with you again either."

"Okay, here are your rules then; if you want me to go out with you tomorrow, you have to ask Logan. Right now he's not too pleased with you, so if you ask him, I think it might make him think a little more of you, and that can't be a bad thing."

"And what if he says no?"

"Then you say thank you sir, but I really like your daughter and I'm taking her out anyway. It would just mean more to her if she had your blessing. And then you hang up the moment you hear him growl."

"Okay, assuming that I would be brave enough to actually say all of that to him, what are the other rules?"

"Everything you described as spending with me works. Except for the aforementioned activities with your mouth; that's not a given, it's something you have to work for, okay?"

"Yes ma'am."

"Also, kissing is as far as it's going to go unless I make it well known in advance. Whatever I say in the heat of the moment doesn't count. You're older, you're a man, so I trust you to be the one to stop it before things go too far. Because if we do something and you end up breaking my heart, I'll have to break your legs," I said. "So that's the deal. You can take it or leave it."

"I'll take it," he said. "And I promise that I'll do my best _not_ to break your heart. I like you _and_ having the ability to work."

I smiled. "Good. Now do you have any rules for me?"

"Do I get to give you some, or is that a trick question?"

I let out a laugh. "No, it's not a trick question. I usually say what I mean and it's rare for me _not_ to speak my mind. I won't try to drop hints and then get mad if you don't get them. If you tell me you're picking me up at six o'clock, I'll be ready at ten minutes till, I'll never ask you if you think an outfit makes me look fat and I promise not to act stupid just to make myself somehow appear more attractive."

"Well that sounds absolutely perfect to me, Miss Rivers. I don't have any rules for you."

"All right," I said. "Then I would _love_ to accept your invitation for a date tomorrow night."

"Assuming your dad doesn't kill me when I ask him to take you out, how does five o'clock sound?"

"Fantastic."

"Good. I'll see you tomorrow then."

I smiled and felt myself blush slightly. "Okay, bye."

"Bye."

I hung up my phone and felt myself grinning like an idiot. Tony was far from being my boyfriend, but it was nice to have someone outside of the school to talk to and spend time with. It also didn't hurt that we were both attracted to each other. It was the first relationship I had with a man where it was okay to flirt and not have to worry about him feeling guilty over not being totally devoted to his dead wife. Or their live one. So to be able to have that adult relationship with a man outside of my school family was quite possibly the healthiest relationship I had had in a very long time. And I was excited about that.

* * *

Over the next two and a half weeks, Tony and I had gone on three dates and spoke on the phone almost everyday. After school, training and dinner, one of us would call the other one, even if it was just to see how the other's day had gone. It wasn't serious, but Logan still hated it. But he had behaved himself pretty well.

On the second to last Wednesday of September, I was busier helping out at the mansion than I had ever been. Storm, Bobby and Rogue had taken some of the senior students into town for a two day fieldtrip in New York City. So I was left running between Hank, Scott, Logan, Jean and Xavier. I was helping them with their classes, doing my best to help corral the students and keep them in line.

After school, Logan and I didn't even get the chance to train. I was put in charge of fielding calls from parents and calling back other ones to make or confirm their dates scheduled to visit their kids that weekend.

Once I was through, Scott asked me to help him fix one of his cars because his hands were too big to reach the parts he needed to take off and replace.

Then I went down to the lab to help Hank clean up. While testing out an experiment he was planning on using in chemistry class, his arm that had been shot had jerked from a bit of nerve damage and he had spilled baking soda and vinegar all over the floor, causing it to bubble and grow. We swept and mopped and worked for nearly an hour to clean it all up.

Then it was time for dinner and once it was over, Logan and I got the chance to watch almost a whole movie together before Scott asked me to help him do bed checks. And by the time we were through, I was too tired to stay awake. So I went to bed, hoping to get a good nights sleep before having to get up and do it all over again in the morning.

At least that's what I had planned on doing.

Sometime around three in the morning, I felt large hands gently shaking me. When I woke up, I saw it was Scott.

"What's wrong? What happened?" I asked, sitting up in bed. I was half asleep and slightly panicked by his being there.

"Nothing's wrong," he said, his voice quiet but strong. "Get your uniform on; you're going on a mission."

I blinked at him in the dark. "A what?"

"A mission. You and Logan are going. Suit up and meet us in the hanger in ten minutes. I'll give you both the details when you get down there."

Even though I didn't fully understand what he was saying, I nodded and got out of bed. He left as I walked to my wardrobe for my uniform. I went to my bathroom, suited up, brushed my teeth and splashed cold water on my face in an attempt to wake me up more. It worked. By the time I made it to the hanger, I was wide awake and beginning to doubt what Scott had said. Was he really sending me on my first mission?

When I got to the hanger, I saw Scott and Logan, both in uniform, waiting for me.

"So I wasn't actually dreaming, you really are letting me go, aren't you?" I asked as I walked up beside the two of them.

"Yeah. Do you think you're up for it?" Scott asked.

"Yeah. What are we supposed to do?"

"A radio tower in the Colorado Mountains has been sending out S.O.S. signals for the last half hour. Our computer picked them up. No one's going to their aid, so we go."

"Are there dangerous mutants trying to hurt them, or something?"

He smiled at me. "We're not sure, but probably not, no," he said. "But it doesn't matter, we go anyway."

"Okay."

"I'm going to get the jet started and ready for takeoff. You and Logan can talk for a minute by yourselves, then you need to climb aboard and I'll show you how to buckle your safety harness and we'll leave. All right?"

I nodded. "Yeah."

He turned and began climbing the ramp to the Blackbird. "You sure you wanna do this?" Logan asked once Scott was out of earshot.

"Why? Are you worried about me?"

"No, but if you're not ready to go out on a mission yet then you can wait; I can take this one on my own."

"Well I wasn't dragged out of bed at three in the morning for nothing. And I'm already all dressed up, so it would be a bit silly of me to just give up right now and go back to bed, wouldn't it?" I said. "Besides, you heard Scott; there's more than likely no crazy, dangerous mutants, so you shouldn't worry about me."

"I'm not worried about you, darlin', I know you can take care of yourself. But I know you've been thinkin' about not joinin' the team, and me and Summers neither one are gonna think any less of you if you decide not to right now. You've been doin' a lot since Hank got hurt, you've been carryin' everyone's slack, but you don't gotta do that on the team. You hear me?"

I nodded. "Yes sir, I heard you," I said. "And I'm ready to join the team. I want to."

The corners of his mouth turned up in a small smirk. "You gonna call me 'sir' the whole mission?"

"Do you want me to?"

"Not really," he said. "But I like it better than 'dude'."

I smiled. "I'll do my best not to call you that, then."

"Good. Now let's get in the jet. You need to learn how to buckle your seatbelt right. If something happens to the jet, you're goin' down with it. I don't want you flyin' out the back."

"Didn't Rogue do that once?"

"Yeah, that's why I don't want it to happen again."

So we climbed aboard the Blackbird and I was given a very serious lecture on the importance of knowing how to fasten my safety harness properly. I didn't argue, I wasn't so keen on the idea of being stuck to the top of the jet should we take off at high speeds, which I was assured that they did often. So I listened very carefully, followed all of Scott's instructions, and did everything he said. Five minutes later, I was able to not only fasten my seatbelt on my own, but could get it together in thirty seconds flat. Then I was briefed very quickly on everything else I needed to do while riding, and told how to access the barf bag, should I need one.

And then we took off.

I had been on airplanes only a few times, and all of them had been within the last two years, and so I had yet to get used to them. But the jet was something completely different. Scott pulled it straight up out of the hanger and hundreds of feet above the school in just a matter of seconds and at an extreme speed. Then, in one smooth thrust, took off flying straight through the air, flying at top speeds.

Once we had been in the air for about ten minutes, my heart finally slowed down. But I was nervous the whole ride. Even when Scott asked if I wanted to come up to the cockpit and look out the windshield, I declined, opting to stay buckled into my chair and clutching my arm rests for dear life. I wasn't scared of flying in general, but I was pretty sure humans weren't meant to go as fast as we were. The flight was smooth, but I could see the tip of the jet cutting through the clouds out the windshield from where I was sitting, and the visual was enough to make me uneasy.

After forty minutes, we finally landed and I was far from sad to be out of the air and on the ground again. But because the tower that had been sending the signals was on the mountain, we couldn't land beside it, but in a clearing _near_ the mountain. Which meant that Logan and I had to hike. Scott was briefing us, or me rather, on what we were meant to do, showing us a 3D map of the mountain, when Hank's voice came through the intercom system at the front of the jet.

Scott walked over to it. "What's going on, Hank?"

"I hate to alarm you as I'm sure you're doing your best to get home quite quickly, but I thought I should contact you anyway."

"Hank, what is it?"

"Jean's gone into labor."

"What? Right now?"

"Yes."

"Okay, uh…what do I do?"

"I suppose you get here as soon as you can. There's not really much more you _can_ do."

"Uh, all right, uh…just tell Jean that I'm on my way and I'll be there soon. And tell her to breathe. And…and…"

"I'll take care of her, Scott. Just be careful getting home."

"Okay, yeah, I will," he said and then the intercom went silence. He turned back to face Logan and me and I could feel his nerves. "I have to go."

"You're not gonna finish briefin' Jayden?" Logan asked.

"Oh, right, sorry. Uh…where were we?"

"It's fine," I said. "I think I've pretty much got it; we go up the mountain, get to the tower sending the signals, check on it and the people there, then we go back down, and on our way we call the school and you come meet us out here to pick us up. If everything goes right, we should be home by dinner."

"Yeah, that's it. Just keep your com-links in your ears and the GPS on your wrist."

I nodded and gave him a smile. "Go on, Scott. Go take care of your wife," I said. "We'll be fine."

"Yeah, okay," he said, his voice sounding nervous as he pressed the button to lower the ramp.

Logan started down it before it had even had time to touch the ground. I didn't follow him. Instead I walked over to Scott and placed my hand on his shoulder. "Are you going to be okay to fly back?" I asked.

"Yeah, I'll be fine. I'm just…I'm nervous, you know? And a little scared," he said. "I'm about to be a father."

"And you're going to be great, don't worry about that," I said. "You just need to think of a name for the poor kid before she's born."

He gave a short smile. "Yeah, we do need to do that, I guess."

I gave him a hug. "You're going to be a fantastic father, Scott. I know it, I can _feel_ it."

"Thank you, Jayden."

I kissed his cheek as I pulled away. "I love you," I whispered to him. "And you deserve to be happy and I'm happy _for_ you."

He nodded and gave me a kiss on the top of my head, then pressed his forehead to mine, looking into my eyes. "I love you too, Jayden. I always have and I'm always going to. You're an amazing person and you have no idea what you mean to me. The fact that you've hung in this past year has meant a lot to me, too."

"I would have missed this year for the world," I said with a small smile. "Now go home to your wife and have your baby."

He smiled back, showing his dimples. "Okay," he said. "And you be careful today. You always remember your first mission, so try to make it a good one, all right?"

"Yeah, all right. I'll see you when this is over."

He gave me another kiss on my head and then we said bye to each other before I walked down the ramp and joined Logan. We walked a few feet away and watched the jet fly away.

And then we started our trek up the mountain. The GPS on my wrist was programmed to give us directions for the easiest way up. That meant no rock climbing and river jumping. But really, the _easiest_ way up a mountain was still hard and about an hour in, I was wondering if I was actually ready to be part of the team after all.


	17. What Hurts The Most

Disclaimer: I don't own the rights to X-Men or Marvel. We're almost to the end of the story, have ya'll liked it so far? Do you think I've given Jayden a good farewell? Are you sick of the poor girl yet? Feel free to leave me comments or PM me, or whatever. Enjoy this chapter!

* * *

Know thyself.

That's what Socrates told us. It sounds simple enough. After all, if we don't know us, who does?

But it's not simple. As a matter of a fact, it's the hardest thing anyone can do. Because to know ourselves, we must also know our demons. We must know our faults and failures. What we can and can't do. We must know our strengths and weaknesses. We have to search over inch of our soul and know it.

As I was climbing up a mountain at three o'clock Mountain Standard Time, which had reverted us back two hours and managed to thoroughly confuse me, I found that I was getting to know myself. Sure, I had been training in the Danger Room for over a year, I had been working out and was as fit as I had ever been, but I had never been prepared to go hiking through the thick, steep, dark muddy forests of a mountain side. I wasn't quite sure if it had rained in the last few days or if Colorado dew was particularly heavy, but the ground was seriously slick and even though my boots had great traction, it was still a little difficult to climb through. And as I was doing so, I wondered if Socrates had ever climbed a mountain.

Logan and I didn't speak much, just a few words between us as he asked how I was doing and I told him I was fine, so I had a lot of time to think. Mostly about how two years before, I never would have imagined myself where I was right then. I thought about how resistant I had always been to change, and yet how much that change had helped me. I liked things to stay how they were, but I didn't like where I was. A catch twenty-two in the worst of ways.

But when I had decided to make certain changes and go for things, they all seemed to be big decisions: Finding Logan, moving to the school, and joining the X-Men being the main ones. But those weren't really the decisions and changes that had helped make me who I was. It was the smaller things. It was the first moment I realized I was okay on my own, that I could take care of myself. When I gave my own opinion and didn't back down when someone told me I was wrong. It was in the day I found out that Scott was going to be a father and I felt genuinely happy for him. When I stood up to my mother and told her that she couldn't talk bad about Logan. And it was there again when I apologized to both her and my father, on separate occasions, and told them that I was sorry for all the pain I had put them through.

It was the big things that catapulted me headfirst into situations that changed my life for good. But it was the smaller things that had slowly allowed me to grow and changed my life for the best.

So as I climbed up the mountain in front of me, I thought of all this. Of everything that had brought me to this point in my life. Like a stack of dominos, it only takes one falling to set into effect the rest going down and leaving just an outline of what had once been. Logan had been the one to push over my proverbial domino. With one vision of him, my whole life changed. And like with so much else, I hadn't even realized how important it was at the time.

At somewhere around four o'clock Mountain Standard Time, Logan suddenly stopped. I was busy thinking, not really paying attention, and ran right into his back.

"Hey, why are we stopping?" I asked.

"I'm stoppin' 'cause it's time for a break. You're stoppin' 'cause you ran into me."

"Well a little bit of a warning would have been nice."

"And if you had been payin' attention, you wouldn't have needed a warnin'."

"Fine, point well taken."

I watched as he moved through the darkness to sit on a rock just off the edge of the trail. "Are you gonna sit down and take a break?"

"Well shouldn't we keep going? I mean, isn't it best to climb up when we have the most energy? Because coming down shouldn't be too hard, right?"

I saw him crack a smile as he pulled the backpack Scott had given us off his shoulders. "You've never been hikin' before, have you?"

"I went on trail walks when I was in the Girl Scouts and they were kind of like mini-hikes."

He laughed. "Not the same, darlin'."

"Okay, so how often do _you_ go hiking?"

"I don't."

"Then how do you know I'm not right?"

He zipped open his backpack. "'Cause I just do," he said, reaching around inside the bag. "And you need to go slow."

"But if we go slow, we're not going to get there in the next few hours."

He let out another laugh. "We ain't gonna get up there in the next few hours no matter how fast we go. But you try sprintin' up there, you're gonna wear yourself out and it's gonna take longer than it would if you take your time and pace yourself," he said, pulling something out of his bag and looking at it. "What is this crap?"

I moved over and sat on the rock beside him. "Well, it looks like a protein bar to me, furry-face."

"Scooter expects us to actually eat these?"

"Did he pack our bags?"

"Yeah."

"Then I guess so," I said, looking up at the trail ahead of us. The moon was almost full, which helped to illuminate the woods, but because of my sense of sight was heightened, there was absolutely no need for any type of extra light. Which was helpful considering it eliminated the need for cumbersome flashlights. "You know, someone really should make jetpacks."

"What?"

"Jetpacks. They promised us in the sixties that by like, the year two-thousand we would have them. We don't and I think someone should. It would totally make things a lot easier."

"Well first of all, no one promised you anything 'cause you weren't born in the sixties."

"Okay, no, but they promised them to the general population."

"Which you weren't part of, 'cause you weren't born."

"It doesn't matter. They said that there would be jetpacks and there aren't any. So I'm disappointed," I said. "Can I be disappointed, is that okay with you?"

He looked over at me with a smirk. "Well you've been in love with Scooter long enough, you should be used to bein' disappointed by now," he said. "Now eat one of these crappy bars he shoved in our bags."

"Don't tell me what to do and stop throwing off on Scott. He's a good guy and he's doing the best he can, okay?"

"No, it's not okay, 'cause he's not doin' the best he can. He's married and got a kid on the way and still can't stop flirtin' with you."

"And that's as far as it's ever gone since Jean came back. Besides, you were the one who told me that there was nothing wrong with a little innocent flirting."

"Yeah, when that's as far as it goes. How do I know that's only as far as he's gone, huh?"

"I don't know, how am I supposed to know that that's as far as it's gone with you and Jean?" I asked.

I felt a twinge of emotion come off him. "Just eat your breakfast, kid and leave it alone."

"No," I said. "Not until you tell me that that's as far as it's gone. Not until you say that it stopped at harmless flirting, and that's it."

"I've never lied to you and I'm not gonna start now, so I can't tell you that," he said. "Not eat so we can get goin' again."

"What happened?"

"It's none of your business."

"Well you make everything I do your business, so yeah, I say this _is_ mine," I said, my voice growing angry as my suspicions rose. But he didn't say anything. "Fine. At least tell me _when_ it happened, or am I not allowed to know that, either?"

"It happened at the beginning of the year. Now drop it."

I studied him in the darkness for a moment as images began flooding my mind. I stood up and shook my head as all of the images came together and clicked, making sense of everything. "You slept with her," I said. It wasn't even a question, I knew it had happened.

"You don't understand."

"No, I _don't_ understand," I snapped. "How could you do that?"

"She just found out she was dyin' and she asked me."

"So because she was dying that makes it okay? That makes it all right for you to _sleep_ with a married woman?"

He swore and threw his bag done. "I'm a freakin' grown man, I make my own decisions and this isn't the time for you to be givin' me any lectures, kid. Now eat your freakin' breakfast and get this mission done."

"No. First you tell me how you could do this to me."

"To you?" He swore again. "How did I do anything to _you_?"

"The man I'm in love with wouldn't be with me because he's devoted to his wife. And then you go and sleep with her. Did you even _think_ about how that would affect me?" I asked. "And not just me, or Scott obviously, but what about Marie? Did you think about her at all? Or did you just not care?"

"I've already told you not to give me any lectures; I'm too old for 'em."

"Oh, but you're not too old to screw other people's wives?" I shouted. "I'm not giving you a lecture Logan, I'm asking if you _care_, which you obviously don't."

"You wanna know the honest truth? I didn't think about you. There wasn't one second you were on my mind while that was happenin', so no, I _didn't_ think about how this was going to affect you, 'cause I didn't think it would. And as far as Summers, I didn't care."

"Then what about Marie? Does she know you were sleeping around with Jean seven or eight months ago?"

"It was nine months ago, and no, she doesn't know anything about it."

"_Nine_ months ago?" I asked in disbelief. "So while I was in my room, completely depressed, you were off screwing Jean?"

"It was only once."

"Great, that makes me feel _so_ much better," I spat sarcastically. "I'm not going to ask if you used protection, because I know even you're not that stupid." But when he didn't say anything, it felt like a ton of brick dropped in my stomach. "Tell me you wouldn't sleep with her without using something. Logan, tell me you're not that stupid. Because she's about to give birth to a kid she conceived nine months ago. If you really are that stupid, then that means…" I couldn't even finish my sentence. With every new realization, the sicker I felt. To the point where I couldn't even speak.

"I'm _not_ stupid," he snapped. "And it would mean that the kid could be mine. But she's not."

"How do you know?"

"I just do. Me and Jean already talked about it."

"What's there to talk about? You had sex with a married woman and there is a possibility, however small it may be, that you got her pregnant. That about sums it all up, don't you think?" I said, fighting to keep the bile in my stomach down.

"It's not mine, it's Scott's. So there's not a problem."

I shook my head as I took a few steps back, moving away from him. With each step I felt the sickness in my stomach grow to the point where my anger boiled over and became physical, spewing from my mouth as vomit. I grabbed a tree to support myself as I felt my stomach heave. I had never felt so angry in my life, and there was nothing I could do to stop it. When I felt Logan's hand on my back, it only made it worse.

"Don't touch me!" I yelled, pushing his hand away.

"Why don't you sit down, drink some of your water and eat something, then we can start climbin' again."

"In case you didn't notice, I just barfed my freakin' guts out. I don't want to eat any of those crappy, disgusting protein granola bars."

"And you're gonna be a lot sicker if you don't eat something now."

"I don't care," I said. "I just want to get this mission over with and go home."

"Fine. If you get sick, don't start complainin'."

"I won't," I said. "Because I would hate to inconvenience you."

"Good. I'd hate for you to do that, too."

And that was it. We didn't speak for the next two hours. In that time the sun came up, the mountain terrain became worse, meaning steeper and a lot rockier, and the combination of the two along with my vomiting earlier made me begin to feel sick and dizzy. So dizzy in face that while I was trying to follow behind Logan, I slipped climbing up a slope and slid all the way back down, only stopping because I fell against a tree.

Logan turned around and when he saw me he swore. "What's goin' on?" he asked.

"Nothing, I'm fine. Let's just keep going," I said, pushing myself away from the tree. But I was still dizzy and slipped again as soon as I tired to take a step.

"No, you're not fine; you're dehydratin' and gettin' sick. I told you to eat something."

"Well, I'm a big girl, so I don't have to do anything I don't want."

He swore again as he jumped down from the slope we had been climbing. "Just shut up, sit down and eat," he said. "I don't want to hear one more word out of you tellin' me you're an adult and you can do what you want. I don't care how you are, I'm still you're father, and you're gonna listen to me."

"I thought you said you didn't want me to inconvenience you. Isn't stopping going to be a problem?" I asked, my tone sarcastic.

"You know what's gonna be a problem? You dyin'. That's gonna be _really_ freakin' inconvenient."

"Oh, and I would die just to piss you off," I spat, rolling my eyes as I slid down the trunk of the tree and sitting on the ground.

"I wouldn't put it past you."

"Yeah, well, just give me two minutes and I'll be fine."

"No you're not gonna be fine. You haven't even drank anything. You're hurtin' yourself just to spite me."

"It seems like good a reason as any to me."

He muttered another string of swears under his breath and walked over to me, then pulled my pack off my back. He unzipped it and grabbed one of my water bottles, then thrusted it in my face. "Drink it," he ordered.

"No," I said, despite the fact that my throat was dry and I had been dying for something to drink for two hours.

He swore again, this time longer and louder. "You can be pissed at me all you want when you get home, I don't care, but right now I'm pullin' rank. I'm leadin' this mission and your job is to do what _I_ say. You don't like it, fine, when we get back, you can tell Summers you can work as part of the team. But before we left you told me you could do it and I expect you to," he said. "So you drink this water, you eat something and we complete this mission. Do you understand me, _soldier_?"

I looked up at him and took the bottle from his hand. "Yes, sir."

"Good. Now drink it. We'll take a ten minute rest and then we start walkin' again. We're gonna be at that tower before ten o'clock."

"They sent out that S.O.S. at three in the morning our time. How do we know they still need us? Eight hours is a long time to wait for help," I said, taking a sip of my water and doing my best to keep myself in line.

"'Cause if they really need help, they don't have a choice but to wait," he said, sitting down beside me.

I took out my bag that was sitting between us and pull out two of the protein bars. "What does S.O.S. stand for?" I asked, ripping open the wrapper with my teeth.

"Save our souls," he said. "They didn't teach you that in Girl Scouts?"

"No. I think they only teach Morse code in Boy Scouts. I just learned how to make bracelets and con other people into buying more cookies that would ever be necessary."

"So nothing useful?"

"No." We both sat quietly for a few minutes as I ate both of my protein bars and drank some of my water, doing both slowly for fear of getting sick again. When I was done, I looked over at him. "Look, I'm sorry, okay? What I said earlier, you were right, it's not my place to give you a lecture. I just…I wasn't expecting that and I got a little upset. I'm sorry."

"I didn't do it to hurt you, kid. It had nothing to do with you."

"But what about Rogue? I don't understand how you could do that. I thought you were in love with her."

He let out a frustrated sigh. "It's not always that easy."

"Why not, though?"

"'Cause like isn't always just right and wrong, or black and white. Sometimes it doesn't matter what you do, it's always gonna be wrong. Real life isn't as easy as people are gonna try to make you think it is. Sometimes you gotta make tough decisions and you gotta decide what you can live with."

"What if you make one you _can't_ live with?"

"Then you gotta go through life regrettin' you ever made it."

"I still don't understand."

"And you're probably never goin' to. You're young and you still think it should be easy to decide what you're supposed to do. But you were always taught to do what was right and you do as you're told. You've not had to make your own decisions long enough to know that sometimes things aren't easy, or make sense, and they definitely aren't always right or wrong."

"Logan, I'm twenty, I'm not a kid. Yes my parents guarded me when I was younger but I _have_ made some pretty big decisions in my life."

"No, you're not a kid anymore, but you're still young and you're gonna make more decisions the older you get, and a heck of a lot more mistakes," he said. "You didn't grow up the day you turned twenty, you've still got a lotta growin' up to do."

"So I'm young and stupid and still making mistakes, but if things aren't as simple as wrong or right then how do you know what you're supposed to do?"

"You don't. You just listen to your gut."

"But what if it's wrong?"

"It's not. You gotta learn how to listen to it, though."

"And if you don't?"

He let out a sigh and rolled his neck, popping the muscles. "Then those are the times when you make the decisions you end up regrettin'."

"So life _always_ sucks, then?"

"Not always, no. There are times when it doesn't suck."

"Like when?"

"Like when you're behavin' yourself and not bein' a pain."

"Which is quite rare, yes?"

"Yeah," he said. "But when it happens, it's not so bad, kid."

I gave him a small smile. "Thanks, same to you," I said. "And I really am sorry about earlier."

"I know. You weren't supposed to get caught in the middle of this. You weren't even supposed to know about it," he said. "Now let's get goin' again before we get too used to sittin'."

He stood and helped me to stand, then handed me my bag and waited as I strapped it on before starting again. We had been gone for over eight hours, walking for seven, and only the last few hours had the terrain gotten worse. It had gone from a mild uphill walk to an actual hike. I was using more muscles in my legs than I even knew I had. And at times, I had to use my hands to pull myself up particularly steep slopes. I had never climbed a mountain before and I could feel it. So when we reached the top by ten o'clock that morning, not only was I incredibly proud of myself, but I was just relieved that I had actually made it. Socrates told us 'know thyself', something I had tried to live by. And when we got to the top and I looked down at the valley below us, I discovered that I could climb a mountain.

"Do you see the tower?" I asked Logan, my hands on my knees as I bent down to keep from getting dizzy. The higher we went, the thinner the air became, and I was having a bit of a hard time adjusting.

"Yeah," he said. "You all right?"

"Yep, just trying to catch my breath. I'll be okay in a second."

"Do you see how far the tower is on your GPS?"

I looked down at my wrist and saw the green dot flashing brightly at me. "It's about two miles away."

"Can you make it that far?"

"Yeah," I said, standing up fully. "Let's go."

I turned around and followed Logan into the woods. I kept looking down at my GPS, calling out how far away we were and if we were veering too far left or right. He knew where we were headed, he had a great sense of direction, but he let me call it out anyway and didn't say a word. About twenty minutes later, we finally made our way through the woods to find the watch tower. But I stopped around ten feet away.

"What's wrong?" Logan asked.

"There's no one in there."

"What're you talkin' about?"

"There's no one in the building," I said, walking up to the door. I pulled it open and stepped in. "See, no one's here."

"Well where the heck are they?"

"Maybe no one was here to begin with."

"Then who sent out the S.O.S.?"

I looked around the small room of the watch tower. It had an outdated computer in one corner along with a machine to send out Morse code. There were two small cots, a wood burning stove and a small kitchen area.

"Maybe it was a bird," I said.

"A bird that knew Morse code?" he asked with a cocked eyebrow.

I shrugged and gave him a small smile. "Maybe it was a really smart bird."

He laughed. "I somehow doubt that, kid."

"Yeah, me too," I said. "What should we do? Do you think I need to call the mansion?"

"Yeah, go ahead."

I pressed the button on my com-link in my ear and it took a second to connect. "This is Jayden, can anyone hear me?"

There was silence on the other end for a couple of minutes before I heard it click over. "Jayden, this is Hank. Is everything all right?"

"No, this mission is a bust; no one's here," I said.

"Yes, I thought someone contacted you, but I guess not. We've been quite busy here. Jean's still in labor and she's not responding to her epidural, poor thing."

"Get to the point, McCoy. What were they supposed to contact us about?" Logan said.

"A couple of hours ago we intercepted radio messages between the police department there in town and rescue workers. They sent a helicopter to pick up the two young men who were staying in the watch tower. One of them had apparently eaten some undercooked food and became ill. They're no longer there."

"Yeah, we figured that," Logan said. "But that would've been good to know two hours ago."

"Yes, I'm sorry. As I said, we're quite busy."

"Well we've been climbin' a freakin' mountain, so we've been kind'a busy, too."

"Logan I've explained myself and apologized. I'm not sure what you'd like me to do."

"Send Summers to get us. We'll be down the mountain in four hours. I want him waitin' there when we get down."

"Scott is with Jean. As I've said, she's still in labor."

"I don't care. I want that jet at the bottom of the mountain when we get there."

"Logan, we can wait. It's not important for us to be home right away," I said, not speaking into my com-link.

"Wait and do what? We're on a freakin' _mountain_."

"I don't know. But you can't expect Scott to leave his wife while she's giving birth. This is his first kid. You know what it's like to see your daughter being born."

"And you popped out in about thirty minutes. It didn't take eight hours for you to be born."

"It doesn't matter. You shouldn't make him miss it."

"Who else is gonna come get us, then? 'Ro's in New York City, she's not at home, Hank's takin' care of Jean and Chuck can't fly. So what're we gonna do?"

"I'm not sure, but I think we can make it for a few more hours, can't we? I just climbed all the way up here. Maybe we can take some time to appreciate the fact that I didn't die on the way. I've never been _on_ a mountain before, can't we like, enjoy it?"

"It's your call, kid."

"Hank?" I said into my com-link.

"Yes, my dear."

"Tell Scott we can wait until Jean gives birth to their poor, nameless child. He can hang out with the kid for a few minutes, then he can fly out for us," I said. "But if there's anymore problems, like the people we're supposed to be rescuing _already_ being rescued, then we need to be contacted. I know that you're all busy there, but we need to be kept in the loop. Deal?"

"Yes, I believe we can do that."

"All right. I'll see you when we get home."

"Take care, sweetheart."

"Will do. Bye Hank," I said, turning off my com-link.

Logan looked at me. "Now what?"

I gave him a sheepish smile. "We can sit and eat some more protein bars." He shook his head then turned and left the building. I followed behind him. "Come on, it's not _that_ bad."

"Yeah it is."

"It's just a few hours. We can rest for a little bit before we start back down. That's a _good_ thing."

"Until you wait here too long and by the time you start back, your muscles are too sore for you to walk all the way down."

"I promise I won't complain then, all right? I made the call so it doesn't matter how much pain I'm in, I won't say anything about it," I said. "I promise."

"And what if you _do_ complain? What do _I_ get?"

"You get me as your personal assistant in class for a whole week. So you can relax, or whatever."

"What about your date with Tony next week?" he asked with a smirk.

I let out a sigh. "I'll cancel it. If I complain, I'll tell Tony we can't go out because I have to help you with school, okay?"

He kept smirking. "Yeah, I think I can deal with that."

So the two of us sat near the edge of the mountain overlooking the valley below and ate lunch together. The protein bars Scott had packed tasted like chocolate drizzled over cardboard. I wasn't sure why he couldn't have packed something a bit tastier. But he didn't, so we did our best to just enjoy the scenery. Which wasn't very hard to do.

I had never seen anything like it before. I had seen things from airplanes, which was cool, but I hadn't seen anything like that before. I could see trees, thousands of them, sprawling across the mountain side. There were mountains beyond the one across from us, seeming to overlap, creating deep shadows in the sky. There was a long but narrow river coursing through the valley below us, white water washing through the canyon. The wind blew at the trees, whipping the leaves through the air, blowing them all around us, and up into the sky where a bird was lazily soaring above us. It was absolutely breath taking.

"You know, despite all of the problems we've had today, I'm glad I came. It's really gorgeous up here," I said.

"You didn't mind the climb?"

"I would have preferred to have gotten here an easier way, sure, but I actually didn't mind that too much either. I'm just really proud of myself for making it all the way, you know?"

"I'm proud of you too, kid."

I looked over at him where he was sitting beside me. "Do you know how much that mean to me?" I asked. "I mean, honestly. I don't know if I've ever told you what it means to hear you say that. I try really hard to make you proud."

He put his hand on my neck and leaned my head over gently to give it a kiss. "You don't gotta try that hard," he said, giving me a wink.

"Thanks."

We were both quiet for a few minutes as we took in everything around us. I knew that Logan loved nature, but I had never cared too much for it. Aside from being out on the beach, I preferred being inside, in the air conditioner. But looking around me, I finally understood why people loved it so much. It was amazing.

"I got a question for you, darlin'," he said, breaking our silence.

"What?"

"You still want to change your middle name?"

"If you still want to pick one out for me, yeah. I mean, I probably wouldn't do it if I had to pick it out for myself, or anything," I said. "Why? Have you come up with any?"

"Yeah."

"What is it?"

"Abelia."

"What does it mean?"

"Hank says it's Hebrew for 'breath'."

I nodded as I thought. "Why?"

"Why does it mean that?"

"No, why did you pick it?"

"It was between that and Elysia." I gave him a confused look. "It's Latin for 'stuck by lightenin'," he said. "It was McCoy's idea."

I laughed. "Well, it would be appropriate, that's for sure," I said. "But why did you pick a name that means breath?"

"Do you remember last year when you asked me what happens to me when I die?"

"Yeah."

"And you remember I told you that you're the reason why I come back?" I nodded. "I figured since I was supposed to pick out your name and you're why I'm breathin', it might as well be your name."

"Ab-bee-lee-uh," I said, sounding it out quietly as I thought about it. "Abelia…I like it."

"Good," he said, standing. "Now let's get outta here."

"Why? What's the rush?"

"You see that?" he asked, pointing to the mountain directly across from us as the gray skyline above it.

"That little rain cloud?"

"Yeah, well, that 'little rain cloud' is gonna start movin' this way and I don't wanna get caught in the middle of a storm climbin' down a mountain."

"That's miles away, Logan. It won't be here for _hours_," I said as I saw a bolt of lightening streak through t he sky at a distance. I gulped. "On second thought, why risk it? Let's get a head start."

"It ain't gonna be much of a head start, darlin'. That storm's gonna be here sooner than you think," he said as I stood up.

"I don't want to be in the wood during a storm. Trees like, _attract_ lightening. What if I get struck again? That _so_ wasn't fun the first time, I really don't want to do it again."

"You won't. You've got a better chance of winnin' the lottery than bein' hit by lightenin' twice.

"I don't _play_ the lottery."

He let out a sigh. "That's not the point."

"Whatever. What if I get hit again?"

"If you get hit, I'll carry you down the mountain. All right?"

I thought for a moment. "Would being unconscious be considered complaining physically?"

He quirked his eyebrow at me. "No."

I nodded. "All right then," I said. "Let's go."

We started back down the mountain, doing our best to try to clear as much ground as we could before the storm moved over to us. We had been walking for nearly an hour when it began to rain. And not the kind of rain where there's a slow drizzle to warn you first and then it slowly builds. No. It was like the sky opened up and dumped water on us. It was at this point I realized why Logan had put me through such tough training in the Danger Room.

I was especially reminded of the one session that he had made me run at the beginning of the summer that had pushed me so hard, I ended up puking my guts out. Although instead of running up a slanted wall; I was going down the side of a mountain. I wasn't fighting through a jungle of ropes; I was fighting through a forest of trees. And there was no twenty foot rope for me to climb up; there were only long branches for me to use as I climbed down. All of this while the rain was pouring from the sky, running into my eyes and nose.

And as I was going through all of it, I understood the point of being pushed as far as I could go; because when I was put into a similar situation, Logan needed to know I wasn't going to break down during it. He needed to know that no matter what, I could make it through and complete a mission without a single thought. He needed to know I was completely prepared.

We were going down a large hill and taking a tight right turn when all of the training I had been put through wasn't enough to prepare me for what we saw.

Standing up on his hind legs, seven feet tall, and no further than ten feet away from us was a big black bear. He growled and I saw spit fly from his mouth and form into foam that spread from the corners. I could smell his foul, soured breath. His paws were at his side, but I could clearly see how big they were and I could also see the long, thick claws connected to them.

And I froze.

"Logan," I squeaked out, my voice a low whisper.

"Yeah?" he whispered back.

"Am I the only one seeing a really freakin' big bear in front of me, or do you see it too?" I asked, rain rolling into my eyes.

"No, I see it."

"What do we do?"

"Stand still." But that didn't seem to be such a great idea. The moment the words left his mouth, the bear took a few steps forward, closing the ten foot gap down to six. "Or maybe not."

"When I said that I didn't want to be stuck by lightening, I didn't mean that I'd rather be eaten by a bear, you know?" I asked, my voice shaking.

"Yeah, me neither," he said, his voice much calmer than mine. "But I've got an idea, are you listenin'?"

"Yeah."

"I'm gonna run to the left and I'll make sure it's chasin' me. Once he's gone and followin' me, you keep runnin' down the trail. You run till you think you're safe, then you run another twenty yards just to make sure. Do you understand?"

"Yeah."

"Repeat it back to me."

"You're going to run to the left and get him to run after you. Once he's gone, I'm going to keep following the trail. I'm going to run until I think I'm safe and then go a little more."

"Good."

"But if you run, he's going to maul you."

"Yeah, but I've got bigger claws," he said with a smirk. "I'll meet you down there in a little while. Just keep runnin' and watch your back."

Then Logan growled at the bear and moved to the left. Like he had planned, the bear followed after him as he started running. When the bear began chasing him, I did what I was told and started down the trail.

And I ran.

And ran.

And ran.

The trail was muddy from the rain and I kept slipping. Tree limbs smacked my body and face. I heard lightening and thunder sounding all around me. But I didn't care. I took my orders, did as Logan had told me, and kept running until I thought I was safe. But he had told me to go further then what I thought. So I did. I was looking behind me, keeping an eye on my back, when I made one wrong step. I slipped. Lose rocks had become slippery during the rain and as I stepped on them, I fell.

And fell.

And fell.

I kicked my feet, trying to sink them into the ground to stop myself, but I couldn't. I felt every rock and tree limb I rolled past and over. Everything was going almost too fast for me to know what was going on. But I saw the big boulder down below me, rushing up fast. I threw my arms up to protect my head and braced myself for the sudden stop. My body slammed hard against the ground and my left foot got jammed into one of the cracks in the boulder. When my body bounced back from the momentum, I felt my leg twist, then snap. A surge of pain ran through me and I let out a loud scream. I took a few seconds to catch my breath and tried to calm myself, despite the indescribable pain. I sat up and tried to pull my leg out of the crack. But with every move, I only made the pain worse and got it stuck further into the crack. After a couple of minutes of struggling, I stopped. I was only making it worse.

"Logan," I said into my com-link, "tell me you've not been eaten by a bear."

"No, and he's not gonna be eatin' anything for a while, either," he said. "How about you? I thought I heard you screamin' a few minutes ago. Everything all right?"

"No, I broke my leg."

"You sure?"

"Yeah, I heard it break."

"What'd you do?"

"Slipped, fell, stopped by hitting a rock and then got my foot caught in the crack. I bounced, twisted my leg and heard it snap."

"How does it feel?"

"Painful," I said, wiping the rain out of my eyes. "And it's still stuck. I can't get it out. Every time I move it, it just gets stuck worse and hurts like all freakin' get out. Do you think you can find me?"

"Yeah, I'm back on the trail. I'll follow your footsteps. Hold tight until I get there."

"I don't really have much of a choice."

I waited, unable to stand, for around ten minutes before I saw Logan carefully making his way down to me.

"You can't just follow orders, can you, kid? You gotta do something I didn't tell you to do," he said, landing on the rock beside me.

"I thought you told me once I needed to be a little bit more independent and not to do what everyone tells me to do?"

"I didn't mean get your foot stuck and break your leg."

"Well maybe you should have been a bit clearer. Besides, maybe I was a little jealous that Jean's having a baby; I want someone to notice me when I get home," I joked through gritted teeth.

He laughed. "I think you're gonna get that," he said. "How far is it wedged in there?"

"Pretty far. The rain's got this rock really slick, every time I move it, it just goes back a little further."

"So what do you want me to do? 'Cause I can either grab a stick and try movin' it out little by little, or just grab it and yank it out real quick."

"Grab it and pull it."

"It's gonna hurt worse that way."

"I know."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah. I don't care; I just want it unstuck."

He nodded. "All right." He pulled off one of his gloves and handed it to me. "Roll it up and bite on it."

I took the glove and did as he instructed. He situated himself on the rock so that he had the best leverage. He placed one hand at my ankle and the other on my shin. He looked up at me. I nodded. He pulled my foot out of the crack. I bit down hard on the glove as I screamed around it. I balled my hands into fists and as the pain ran through me, I forgot how to breathe. I shut my eyes tight and bit down harder on the leather glove. I barely noticed when my head hit the rock below me. And I didn't care.

Then I felt my mouth being pried open and the glove being pulled out.

"Breathe!" Logan yelled at me.

My eyes snapped open and I inhaled deeply. I took a few more breaths before I realized water was running up my nose. I sat up as I began choking on it and spit it out beside me, then tried to catch my breath.

"I gotta get you outta the rain," he said, looking around him. "There's a cave over there." He pointed to his left. "I'm gonna go check it out and if it's clear, I'm gonna come back and get you. Okay?"

I nodded as I continued to try to get all of the water out of my nose.

I watched him jog off into the woods and hoped that this 'cave' he saw didn't have any bears in it. The last thing I needed was to have another pissed of bear in front of me. Because this time, I couldn't run.

A few minutes later, Logan came back declaring the cave save to go in. So he picked me up and carried me to it. Once he had me seated on the ground and out of the rain, he began pulling off my boot.

"Wait, what are you doing?" I asked, suddenly panicked.

"I've gotta see what it looks like. I need to know how bad it is," he said. "I'll be careful, baby. I promise."

I thought for a few seconds and decided he was right. "Okay," I agreed.

He slowly and carefully pulled my left boot off. My leg stayed in a constant state of pain and I did my best to deal with it, but it was so far beyond anything I had ever felt before. So I almost didn't even care when he slid the side zipper of my pant leg down to expose my bruised, swollen foot and leg. I watched Logan examine it as I gritted my teeth and tried to breathe evenly, doing my best to fight off a panic attack.

He swore. "I've gotta call Hank on this."

"I don't care, do whatever you have to do," I said, looking away from my deformed leg.

"Hey McCoy, can you hear me? We need your help, com on," he said into his com-link.

About a minute later, I heard Hank's voice in my ear. "Logan, what is it?" he asked, sounding slightly irritated and very un-Hank like.

"Jayden's gone a broke her leg. The bone's outta place. We need the jet here now."

"That's not going to happen any time soon, I'm afraid. As I told you earlier, we're very busy here. I'm sorry, but I can't do anything for you."

Logan swore again. "Look, I don't care what the heck you're doin' there. My kid's got a broke leg and she's in a lot of freakin' pain. Right now we're caught in the middle of a storm, I was just nearly attacked by a bear and she can't even get down this mountain on her own. So if you're not gonna send anyone to get us, then tell _me_ how to fix her freakin' leg."

"Has the bone broken through the skin and is any of it visible?" Hank asked.

"No, but only barely. I can see it stickin' up."

"Then there's not much you can do. Try elevating it to keep it from swelling and perhaps make a splint. Once she gets here I'll have to re-break the leg and reset it."

"No, I don't want him to re-break my leg," I protested.

"What if I set it?"

"Do you think you can?" Hank asked.

"Yeah."

"Very well then. But until Ororo gets here, that's all I can do," Hank said. "Now I really _do_ have to go. Good luck."

The com-link went dead and Logan pulled his out of his ear and threw it against the cave wall, swearing at it as he did so. "I don't know what the heck's goin' on there, but we're on our own, kid."

"Can you really set my leg back in place, or do you think Hank will have to break it again when we get back."

"No, I can set it."

"Are you sure?"

He looked me in the eyes. "Yeah, I'm sure. But it's gonna hurt worse than just movin' it does. If Hank re-breaks it, he can put you to sleep first. It's your leg, so it's your call."

I looked back down at my already black and purple, throbbing leg. I could see the jagged edge of my bone sticking up, threatening to rip through the skin at the slightest movement. Consciously I knew it was connected to my body and I could feel all the pain, but somewhere my brain just wouldn't accept that it was me that was injured. Perhaps that's why I didn't second guess my answer when I told Logan to set it.

Once I told him to do it, he didn't waste any time. He gave me back the glove I had used to bite on earlier and informed me that he was going to count to five then snap the bone back into place. He told me no matter what I did, I had to remember to breathe. Then he got ready to set it.

"One."

I closed my eyes tight.

"Two."

I bit down hard on the leather glove.

"Three."

I grabbed a fist full of my backpack lying on the ground beside me.

"Four."

I made sure I was keeping my breaths even and remembering to breathe.

"Five."

A rush of pain like nothing I had ever felt before in my life ran through my whole body has Logan pushed my broken bone back into place. I chopped at the glove in my mouth like I was going mad. I felt tears of pain rolling from my eyes. My chest heaved as I tried to breathe through the pain. But it didn't work. It was a sickening, blinding, never ending pain that just kept coursing through my body over and over and over.

But after a few minutes, the pain began to ease.

I pulled the glove out of my mouth and tried catching my breath as well as trying not to vomit. But even when my breathing _did_ return to normal and I managed to successfully keep from throwing up, I realized that my body was shaking.

"You all right?" Logan asked as I opened my eyes.

I nodded. "Yeah…yeah, I think so."

"Good," he said, taking the bag off his back and propping it up under my foot. "Hank said to keep this elevated to stop the swellin', so keep it up here. I'm gonna go find some wood for a split. Are you gonna be okay here without me for a few minutes?"

"I'll be fine," I said, my voice a little hoarse from screaming.

"Okay, I'll be right back," he said before leaving the small cave.

So I sat there by myself and let my mind wonder in order to take it away from the pain. And for the second time that day, I thought about how much I had changed. Had the situation I was in happened two year prior, I would have no doubt bawled my eyes out at the sight of a bear, cried yet again when my leg broke, and more still when Logan set it, assuming I wouldn't have taken up the offer for Hank to do it while I was sedated or passed out from all of the pain first. I would have wept at the thought of being stuck in a cave, on a mountain, in the middle of a storm. And yet, despite the fact that I was in more pain than I had ever felt in my whole life, I wasn't crying.

For the first time, I wasn't breaking down, or going numb. Although with all the pain I was feeling, I wished I _had_ been numb. But I wasn't blocking out what was happening; I was accepting it. I felt it and didn't try pushing it away. And I realized that when I just let things be, I didn't always lose my mind.

About fifteen minutes later, Logan came back, carrying a bundle of wood in his arms.

"Do you think you should check and see if you broke your com-link?" I asked.

"No. They're not any help, so why do I need it?"

"I don't know. In case we get separated or something, I guess."

He locked at me with a cocked eyebrow. "And how are we gonna get separated? _You_ can't walk."

"That's very true, but maybe you should get it anyway," I said. "I would feel a little better if you had it."

"Fine, I'll get it when I finish your splint," he said, kneeling beside me and dropping the stack of wood next to him. "I'm gonna have to touch your leg again, so it's gonna hurt, just not as much as before."

"That's fine, whatever," I said as he began zipping my pant leg back up. "Shouldn't you put the splint right _against_ the skin and then pull my pant leg down _over_ it?"

"Probably, but knowin' you, you'd end up gettin' splinters all over your leg, so we're not gonna do that."

I smiled. "Yeah, I probably would," I said. "But right now I'm pretty much intoxicated from the pain, so I'm not sure it would matter at this point."

"Well I'll still go easy on you."

"That would be a first."

He looked up at me. "Here's a bit of advice, kid; don't insult the person holdin' your injured leg. It's not smart."

"I'll be sure to remember that," I said. "Is it cold in here to you, or is it just me?"

"Just you," he said, taking my backpack and placing it on the ground behind me. "Lay down. If there's enough wood left after makin' your splint, I'll build you a fire."

"With wet wood?"

"Not all of it's wet. Now shut up and lay down so I can work."

I didn't argue and did as he said. I lay back against my lumpy bag and tried to keep from yelling out every time Logan touched my foot as he used the straps from his backpack to fasten a splint around my leg.

"Have I ever told you about the time I broke my arm?" I asked.

"No."

"I was like eight, maybe nine, and this girl Susie, who I hated but my mom always wanted me to be friends with, had a party and invited me. I didn't want to go, but my mom made me," I said, wincing as he twisted my leg to straighten it out. "So when I got there, I saw that she had a trampoline and everyone was jumped on it. My mom had _never_ let me jump on one, _ever_. I mean, I had to quit gymnastics when I was five because my instructor Ivan wanted me to get on one. So I thought since my mom _made_ me go, I'd jump on it just to spite her."

He looked up at me with a slight smile. "You actually did something to piss your parents off?"

"More than you know, furry-face. See, I was never blatantly defiant, but I _did_ do stuff to annoy them. It was mostly just my mother, though," I said. "Anyway, I decided I would get on the trampoline, have gun, and she would never know. But when it was my turn to jump, one of the stupid boys Susie invited threw a water balloon at me and before I could even get up to jump, my hand slipped from the water on the rail, I fell backwards and I landed on my arm. But what _really_ got me is that everyone laughed. Like it was funny that I fell. They stopped laughing when I stood up and my arm was all jacked up and crooked. So when Susie's mom, Mrs. Murray, went in to call an ambulance, I told the kids that if they ever told my parents I had been on the trampoline, I'd snap all of their arms and laugh at them."

"You threatened to break their arms at eight years old?"

"Or nine. I don't really remember."

He laughed. "You really are my kid."

"Certainly you didn't think I was _always_ well behaved?"

I sensed him smiling as I closed my eyes to the pain. "No, I didn't," he said, tying off the rest of my splint. "But what did you tell your mother when she asked how you broke it?"

"I told her that the same idiot boy who threw the water balloon at me had jumped off the trampoline and landed on me, knocking me down. She didn't bother to notice that I didn't have any bruises except on the side where I landed."

"Well she probably wasn't used to you lyin'."

I opened my eyes to look at him. "Didn't you once tell me that I was a bad liar? Shouldn't she have _known_ I was lying? I mean, parents are supposed to be like detectives, yes? They're supposed to know you and know when anything's wrong. I lied to them a lot and as far as I can tell, they only found out about half of the lies. If I was _that_ bad of a liar, wouldn't they know about all of them?"

"I don't know, I don't know your parents."

"_You_ know when something's wrong with me _and_ when I'm lying, even when you let me get away with it."

"I know when something's wrong with you 'cause you always tell me. You can't keep anything to yourself, kid."

"This is very true. But even when I don't tell you, you still know."

"What's your point?"

"You know, I forgot…" I said as he moved towards the entrance of the cave. "So now what?"

"I'm buildin' you a fire. Then we wait."

"For…?"

"The rain to stop."

"And when it does, then what? You heard Hank; no one's coming to get us, not for a while anyway. But even when they do, I can't climb down the mountain and the jet can't land up here."

"I'll get you to the bottom."

"By what? Carrying me?"

He looked at me from over his shoulder where he was trying to build a fire with a rock and one of his claws. "Yeah."

"You can't carry me down a mountain, Logan."

"Why not?"

"Because I'm too heavy."

"I'd rather carry you down than up."

"I don't care. You're not carrying me. I'm like, a hundred and thirty pounds, that's too much for anyone to carry for five or six hours, or _however_ long it's going to take."

"Hey, I'm the leader here."

"And I'm the person you're talking about carrying. I think I should have a say in it."

"Why don't we wait till it stops rainin', then _I'll_ decide what we're gonna do."

"Yes sir."

"And stop callin' me 'sir'."

"Fine," I said. "Yes _ma'am_."

He growled as he looked at me once again over his shoulder. "Do you know how to be quiet?"

"I'm talking to keep my mind off my leg."

"You want me to take you mind off your leg?"

"If it involves breaking another body part, then no, I don't want you to."

"Then shut up and let me concentrate."

I was quiet for a second before I let out a sigh. "Can I just ask one more question?"

"Is it gonna be your last?"

"Yeah."

"Then fine, ask it."

"Why are you building a fire at the front of the cave? Won't all the heat be sucked out?"

"No," he said. "But the smoke will be. And if it's at the front it's gonna keep any animals out."

"Okay," I said. "That's all I wanted to know."

I let out another sigh and closed my eyes once again. I was doing my best to keep my mind off the pain, but my best wasn't good enough. What I was feeling was so far beyond any pain I had ever personally felt, and yet I was trying to ignore it. Hank had once tried teaching me how to remove my focus from the pain and putting it on something else, which usually helped with things like sore muscles and menstrual cramps. But with full body pain, which is what I had from sliding down the hill, skiing over rocks, branches and tree roots, then landing against a boulder and bouncing back on it a second time. That and the fact that I was still slightly worn out from the hike up and what little we had gone down, there wasn't a part of my body that wasn't hurting to refocus my attention on. So I had to make do with turning my attention to the rain.

As much as I didn't like getting caught in it sometimes, I absolutely loved the rain. The sound, the smell, even the sight of it was beautiful. But more than anything, it was the attachment it had to my memories. When it rained, I felt safe and comforted. Like everything was going to be okay.

Even when, logically, I knew it wasn't.

"I'm sorry," I said, once Logan had finished building the fire and was sitting beside me.

"If you're apologizin' again for what you said earlier, don't."

"Actually, I wasn't. But you know, the more I think about it, I'm pretty sure I was right to be mad at you."

"Then stop thinkin' about it."

"Fine," I said. "What I was actually apologizing for was that I screwed the mission up."

"How did you screw it up?"

"By breaking my leg."

"It was pretty screwed up _before_ then, in case you didn't notice," he said. "There wasn't a mission 'cause our targets were gone before we ever got there. That wasn't your fault, that was Scott's."

"But _I_ fell and _I_ got hurt."

"You were runnin' like I told you to do."

"I should have been watching where I was going. The rocks were broken and unsettled. One step to the right would have stopped it all from happening."

"It was rainin' and you lost your balance."

"Are you going to let me apologize for _anything_?"

"Nothing that's not your fault, no."

"Well so far you haven't said anything was my fault."

"Then don't apologize for it."

I let out another sigh. "Look, what I'm trying to say is that I'm sorry -"

He let out a low growl. "Stop apologizin'," he said.

"Okay. I'm…_regretful_ for my behavior earlier today. It shouldn't matter what happened, I shouldn't have let my personal feelings get in the way of doing my job. You were right; you're the leader and no matter what, I shouldn't question, or doubt, or dispute your leadership during _any_ situation. This is my first mission and I made a rookie mistake by assuming I didn't need to listen to you."

"It wasn't a rookie mistake; you just didn't want to have me tellin' you what to do."

"Well, whatever, I _can_ follow orders and I can be a part of this team," I said. "I promise."

"Good. When you get home, you can tell Summers."

"So you're not mad at me?"

"No, I'm not mad at you darlin'," he said. "Just go to sleep. I'll wake you up when the rain stops."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah. Turn off your com-link and get some rest."

I reached up and turned off the com-link in my ear. After about five minutes, I finally fell asleep, too tired to keep my eyes open any longer. And I hoped that when I woke up, Logan would have everything figured out.


	18. Understanding

Disclaimer: I don't own the rights to X-Men or Marvel. This is the last chapter in the story, and the last story in my series, so I hope ya'll enjoy it. Let me know what you think. And thank ya'll for supporting me these last two years. I've really appreciated it. Take care.

* * *

I was in a room and it was dark.

I had been in the room before, but there was something different about it. I wasn't sure what it was, but I could feel it.

Something was about to happen.

I watch the dark closely, waiting for any sign of movement. Finally, to my right, I heard a noise. A door opened, broken shards of light splayed across the floor as I listen to the sounds of heavy footsteps making their way into the room. Moments later, there was a 'click' and the room began to fill with a dull green-yellow light. Another click and a large board filling most of one wall was illuminated, showing dozens of X-rays tacked to it.

There were three men total in the room and I watched as they set about working. They were doing something to the tank that was in the middle of the room, but I couldn't see what it was. After a few minutes passed, I saw the water begin to bubble.

They were boiling it.

Stryker and his two assistants then left the room. And when they came back, they weren't alone.

Stryker escorted eight men and one woman into the room. Most were wearing normal clothes, but one of the men was dressed in a Canadian Armed Forces uniform, and judging from the pins on his lapel, he was well decorated and obviously highly respected. There was no speaking between any of them as Stryker explained that they were about to see what their money had helped fun and that they were about to witness history as they saw the first successfully trained human weapon. The ultimate killing machine. A super solider like none the world had ever seen.

And then they brought in Logan.

He was naked and lying on a metal table. He wasn't strapped down like usual, he was instead lying there willfully. But when I looked in his eyes, I saw that they were blank. He was heavily sedated and looked nearly dead.

The two men wheeled him in and, with the help of three other assistants, lifted Logan from the table and placed him on the metal rack just above the tank. Once they had secured his wrists, ankles and chest, and Stryker assured his guests that the restraints were purely for the protection of Weapon X, not them, his men stepped back and they lowered Logan into the tank of boiling water.

He didn't react at first. Even as the water began burning his kin, he remained unaffected. But I watched as his eyes began to lose their blankness and as life was brought back to him. When the sedatives wore off, he began to react. He thrashed around in the tank, screaming into the scalding hot water as the heat got to him, racking his body with unbelievable pain.

I watched as the twelve people in the room didn't flinch at the sight of the man in pain. They only stood quietly, watching, observing. After several minutes of torture, they remained as straight faced as before. Only one grew curious and asked about the other experiments that they had tested on him. When Stryker explained what all that they had done, they still seemed confused. How was it possible?

"He can't die," Stryker explained. "He's the perfect assassin; you never have to replace him."

Then he nodded to his assistants and they disappeared from my sight. A few moments later, I noticed that the water was no longer boiling. Stryker told them that they would let the water cool before starting it all over again. Then another man entered the room and told Stryker that he had an urgent phone call. Before excusing himself, he told the spectators to take a glass of champagne; their experiment was successful, they should celebrate.

I watched as he left and his two assistants wheeled in a table full of champagne glasses. I watched as the men and one woman toasted to the success of Project X. As Logan continued to scream, and buck, and thrash.

And then he stopped.

He lay perfectly still at the bottom of the tank. His eyes open, not blinking. His chest didn't move. There were no air bubbles come from his nose or mouth.

He looked dead.

He stayed in this position for only a few seconds before he drew the attention of Stryker's assistants. Together they leaned over the tank, examining him as close as they dared with the water still near boiling.

And in a split second, everything broke into chaos.

Logan pulled himself free of his wrist and chest restraints and sat up straight in the tank, popping his claws as he did and sinking both sets into the assistants, killing them immediately. He removed his claws from them, sending them both to the floor in a bloody mess, their entrails spilling out of the deep cavities in their chests.

He stood, pulling out of his ankle straps, and jumped from the tank. Without a second's hesitation, he slashed his claws through the nearest person, the man in the military uniform, slicing his body completely in half. His top half slid from his torso, both falling to the ground as his legs continued to twitch.

He turned to face the others as they attempted to flee the room. He sunk his claws into the nearest person, burying them deep into the soft flesh of his stomach. His claws ripped through his back with a loud 'POP' as he severed his spine. Dead, Logan tossed him across the room like a rag doll and continued on with his massacre.

He slashed his claws through heads, slicing easily through their skulls and brains. The neatly cut slices landed on the floor, adding to the bloody heap. He moved quickly, efficiently, killing until there was no one left in the room alive.

Except for the woman. She lay amidst the ravaged bodies, covered in their blood and gore. She begged for her life. And then he killed her.

He left the room, cutting his way through the three-inch steel door in under a minute. Once in the hallway, the killing continued. He killed everyone in his path. Every guard, scientist, his 'handlers', the assistants, the psychiatric specialists who were hired to make sure he wasn't being pushed too far. He cut his way throughout the underground compound in a murderous rage that lasted the whole night, following his training of being nothing more than the perfect killing machine. As morning neared, his butchery ended as every person lay dead or dying.

Then he made his way to the exit of the underground facility, leaving a trail of thick blood and gore in his wake. He moved through the dim halls and climbed the thousands of stairs that led to his only way out. When he saw the door, he ran towards it. Light from the outside world spilled in through the cracks. As the light covered him, he looked down at his hands as if they were new. For the first time, he saw the six adamantium claws extended from his knuckles. They were covered in blood. As were his hands, arms, face and the rest of his body.

I saw the saw the confusion and agony in his eyes. He didn't know what had happened. He didn't know where he was. He didn't know who or _what_ he was.

And he screamed.

I woke with a small gasp and sat up. I remembered my leg was broken as pain shot through my whole body and I gritted my teeth hard, biting back a growl of pain.

"Hey, you all right?" Logan asked, turning to look at me from where he was standing at the entrance of the cave.

"Yeah," I said, taking a few deep breaths to calm myself from my vision and the pain.

"Did you see something?" he asked. I nodded. "What did you see?"

"You."

"Doin' what?"

I looked up at him. "Escaping."

And that was it. That was the end of that conversation. He knew what I was talking about and there was no reason for me to elaborate. But after that day, I never had another vision of Logan again.

We spent the next hour waiting out the rain. We talked, but not about the vision, about things that didn't matter. Like which was better; Chinese food or Japanese. About our favorite Three Stooges bit. About why Wyle. E. Coyote never caught Roadrunner and why he never just gave up, and why, exactly, he kept buying all of his stuff from Acme if is just backfired. We talked about anything and everything, and slowly the images of him naked, covered in blood and screaming out of agony begin to leave my mind. And once again, he became Logan. Not an experiment, but a man. A great man. A great _father_. My hero.

Once the rain stopped, Logan put out the fire and the two of us started down the mountain once again. In order for me to climb down, I needed his help. So I slung my arm over his shoulder and used a stick in the other hand to help steady myself. It wasn't fast, and my leg hurt like all get out, but it worked and slowly we made our way down. About half way, Hank called in over the com-link that Storm was on her way to get us and that he was sending a shot with pain medicine in it for me to take as soon as we boarded. That news gave me a little kick in my step, and by the time the sun had set, we had made it to the bottom of the mountain. When I saw the jet, I felt like weeping out of joy. On the Blackbird was enough pain medication to knock me out for hours.

When Storm lowered the ramp, Logan made me ditch my walking stick before scooping me up in his arms and carrying me to my seat.

"What happened to her?" Storm asked, handing Logan the case with the shot in it.

"She broke her leg," Logan said, pulling my glove off and unzipping my sleeve, exposing my arm.

"How?"

"I slipped," I said.

Logan tapped the side of the shot to get all of the air bubbles to float to the top, the pressed the shot down until liquid came out of the top of the needle. Once all of the air bubbles were out, he found a vein in my arm and sunk the needle in my skin, emptying its contents into the vein in my arm.

"Hank said that should start working in five or ten minutes," Storm said. "But I need you to buckle up now. I'm taking off before it going into effect."

I nodded. "Okay."

I did as she said and buckled myself into my seat and prepared for takeoff. I was already tired so the medicine began to take effect almost immediately. As it sank into my bloodstream, I felt drowsy. My eyelids were heavy and difficult for me to keep open as I tried to watch Storm and Logan buckling up in the cockpit. They were talking and I wanted to stay awake long enough to hear their conversation, but I was struggling and it was a losing battle.

"What the heck's goin' on at the school, 'Ro? Me and Jayden have been stuck up there all day and no one's cared to tell us what's happenin'," I heard Logan say, his voice seeming distant.

"It's not good, Logan," Storm replied, her voice seemed further away. "It's not good at all."

Then the darkness came.

* * *

My eyes blinked open and I stared up at the dim lights above my head. It took me a few moments to realize I was in the infirmary. I pushed myself up slightly in the hospital bed I was lying in, but couldn't move too far. My left leg was in a cast and hanging in a sling that was attached to my bed and keeping it raised about my heart to keep the swelling down.

"I see that the patient has finally woken," Hank said, walking into the infirmary, hobbling along with his cane. "How do you feel?"

"A little groggy, but all right, I guess. I don't really feel any pain."

"Good. I gave you an Ibuprofen a few hours ago, that means it's still working."

"How long have I been out?"

"Almost a whole day."

I looked around me. "Where's the baby?" I asked.

"Scott's?"

"Yeah."

"Ororo has her."

I laughed. "That figures. Jean goes through what? Ten hours of labor? Then someone comes alone and takes the kid." I shook my head. "Where is Jean, anyway? I thought you would keep her down here longer than a day."

"Jean's no longer here."

"Well, I guess if I had spent that much time in labor I'd probably want to sleep in my own bed, too."

"No."

"No what?" I asked, suddenly feeling the emotions that had been with him since he walked into the room. I had been too groggy to notice them at first, but now they were obvious.

"Jayden, I'm afraid that Jean…she…she passed away yesterday," Hank said, trying to be as professional as possible. But he was talking about one of his friends and I knew the words hurt.

"What? No. No, that's not right. She's alive, she's fine, she has to be."

He shook his head. "No Jayden."

"But you said she could live for two years," I argued, feeling my emotions beginning to well up inside of me.

"Yes, but that was the _maximum_. I told you that I couldn't say for certain. The stress of being in labor and giving birth was just too much for Jean's body to handle," he said. "There was nothing we could do."

My mind reeled. I tried finding words, but the only ones that would come out were, "But what about Scott?"

"He was with her. He held her hand the whole time. She went very peacefully. That's all we could ask for."

I shook my head. "No, this isn't right," I said again. "She can't just leave like that. She can't leave _Scott_ like that. Not him and the baby."

"Jayden, I told you; there was nothing we could do. She _knew_ she was dying."

I felt sick to my stomach as everything ran through my mind. I shook my head to try to clear my thoughts, but it didn't work. "I need out of here," I said finally, my voice quiet and hoarse. "I have to get out of here." I tried to pull my leg from the sling, but I couldn't bend my knee and I couldn't reach far enough to slip off the sling. I tried for a couple of minutes, but still couldn't do it. I looked up at Hank. "Help me," I said. "_Please_."

"You shouldn't be exerting yourself, you're injured," he said, but I could tell he saw the pain I was in, and it had nothing to do with my leg.

"I don't care!" I yelled, holding back tears. "I promised I would be there for Scott when he needed me Hank, and I wasn't. I _need_ to see him. Please."

He was quiet for a few moments, then nodded. He walked over to the bottom of my bed, walking slowly with his cane, and then slipped my leg from the sling before carefully placing it on the bed. I pushed myself up and than swung both of my legs off the side and planted my feet on the floor. Then, using the nightstand as leverage, pulled myself up and stood.

"Stay here. I'm going to get you a set of crutches," Hank said.

He left the infirmary and went to the room connected to it. I did as he said and waited for him to bring me the set of crutches. Once he did, he told me that he thought Scott was in his room and I went to find him.

I took the elevator straight to the second floor and as fast as I could, made my way to the teacher's wing. The house was eerily quiet. Had Hank not told me what had happened, I could have known. I could feel it. Grief, sadness, mourning, it filled the school and seeped from the walls. And it broke my heart.

I walked through the quiet, empty halls until I was at Scott's room. I reached up my hand to knock and paused when I heard him crying and I felt my heart begin to ache a little more. Finally, I brought my hand back and knocked, then waited as I heard footsteps falling behind the door. Then it opened.

"Hey," Scott said, his voice hoarse, and I knew it was from his crying. "Logan said you broke your leg. How does it feel?"

"It's okay," I said. I took a deep breath. "Hank told me about…he told me about Jean."

He ran his hand over his mouth and nodded. "Yeah, she died yesterday."

"Scott I am _so_ sorry."

"Yeah, me too," he said. He looked exhausted. "Do you mind coming in? I need your help with something."

"Yeah, what do you need?" I asked, following him into his room.

He walked over to his bed and held up two ties. "I'm trying to pick out a tie to wear to the funeral tomorrow, but I've been staring at these for nearly an hour and I can't tell which one's black."

I walked over to him and looked at the ties. "Neither one's black. One's dark blue and the other is brown."

He let out a frustrated sigh and threw the ties across the room. "I just wasted an hour staring at those stupid things," he said angrily. "What kind of an idiot can't tell the difference between black and brown and blue?"

"Why don't you let me pick one out for you?"

"Whatever, I don't care."

"Where do you keep them?"

"My top drawer," he said, pointing to his dresser that was against the wall across from me.

I went over to it and opened the drawer. Rows of immaculately placed ties filled the space and it only took me a second to spot the black one. I pulled it out and then took it to him.

"Thanks," he said, sitting down on his bed. He put the tie on the pillow beside him and put his face in his hands.

I placed my crutches at the bottom of his bed and sat beside him. "Scott, I don't know what to say to you. I don't know what you're going through and _nothing_ I say is going to make it better."

"Then don't say anything." He pulled his face out of his hands and looked at me. "You don't have to; being here is enough."

"I'm sorry I wasn't here for you yesterday."

He shook his head. "No, I'm glad you didn't see me yesterday. I was a complete mess," he said. "Not that I'm not now. But I didn't want you to see me like that."

"Why? Are you afraid it would have made you look human?"

He gave a small laugh as he wiped at a rogue tear running down his cheek. "Something like that, yeah."

"Scott, the reason I love you so much is because you _are_ human. You're allowed to make mistakes, and you're allowed to fall. You don't have to _always_ be strong. It's okay to be weak sometimes. You've earned every right to feel what you feel right now and no one is going to think any differently of you for showing it."

He shook his head as more tears rolled down his face. "I can't burry my wife, Jayden, I _can't_," he said, crying. "I thought the hardest thing I would ever have to do was fly away from Alkali Lake and leave Jean there. I thought…I thought that was it. And _that_ nearly killed me. So what's this going to do to me?"

"It's not going to kill you," I said, placing my mouth close to his ear and whispering. "Do you understand me?"

"What am I going to do?"

"You're going to keep moving," I said. "You're going to get up every day and you're going to go on with your life."

"I'm scared," he said, his voice shaking as he cried.

"I know. And you're going to be and there's _nothing_ I can say to keep you from being scared. But I love you, Scott, you have _no_ idea how much I love you and I _promise_ you that I'll always be here for you when you are scared. I'm going to be here when you're angry, or sad, or feel like you're going crazy, and I'll always do the best I can to help you. You're going to hurt, and grieve, and cry. But you _are_ going to survive this."

He didn't say anything; he just pulled me to him and hugged me. His arms wrapped around me tightly. I could feel all of his pain. All of his fear. His anger. I felt it as I held him to me. And I cried. I cried for him, for his baby. I cried for the school. For the Professor, and Storm, and Hank. For all of those who had known Jean, who had loved her. I cried for me, because despite how I felt about her, she was still my family. I cried for us all.

Scott and I held each other for what seemed like forever until there was a knock on his door. He pulled himself away from me and wiped away the tears from his face. He cleared his throat, stood and composed himself before going to the door and opening it.

"I thought her daddy might like to see her for a little while," Storm said, holding a pink bundle in her arms.

I saw Scott's whole face light up as he carefully took the baby from her. "Thank you, Ororo. I appreciate you watching her while I arranged everything."

"It was no problem, Scott. She was a perfect little angel."

Scott smiled as he looked down at her, and it was genuine. The amount of love that radiated off him as he held his baby girl was powerful and overwhelming. I could feel it filling the room and soon the tears I had been crying in sorrow turned to happiness.

He looked over at me. "Do you want to meet her?" he asked.

I nodded as I wiped the tears away from my cheeks. "Yeah," I said, grabbing my crutches and standing. I walked over to him and looked down at her. She wriggled a bit and yawned, the settled back into his arms, content. "She's absolutely beautiful."

He beamed. "I know."

I gave him a smile. "You did good, Summers," I said.

"Thank you."

"Do you ever name her?"

"Yeah," he said, rocking her slightly. "Lily Hope."

"Did Jean know -?"

"That it was your middle name?" he asked. I nodded. "Yeah, she knew. It was her idea. She knew you were changing it, but she thought you might pass it down to her."

I smiled at him, but didn't say anything. I didn't know what _to_ say. His wife, the woman I had never gotten along with, had named her child after me. And I couldn't have been more flattered or honored.

I looked down at the baby and smiled at her. "Hey Lily, I'm Jayden. I've wanted to see you for a very long time and a lot of people are excited that you're finally here," I said "You have a daddy that loves you so much. And even though your momma's not here, she loved you very much, too. I hope when you get older you understand that she didn't want to leave you and that she _always_ loved you. That's a _very_ special thing and that makes you a _very_ lucky little girl."

"She has a whole family that loves her," Storm said.

I looked up at her and for the first time, I didn't feel anything negative coming from her towards me. Instead, she gave me a weak smile. I couldn't tell what she was thinking for sure, but it seemed that Jean's death had put her feelings into perspective and right then, we both made a silent truce.

"Did she sleep at all while you had her?" Scott asked.

Storm looked over at him. "No, she was wide awake," she answered.

"Well I'm going to feed her and see if I can't get her to take a nap. I think I might need one, too."

"If you can't get her to sleep you can bring her back to me and I'll watch her while you do."

He nodded and gave her a smile. "I will," he said. "And thank you Ororo, I really do appreciate it."

Storm leaned up and gave him a kiss on his cheek. "You're welcome, Scott," she said. "You two have a good nap. I'll see you later. Bye Jayden."

"Bye Storm," I said as she turned and walked away. "I guess I should to, too. But if you need me, you can come get me. Okay?"

"Actually, can you do me a favor?"

"Yeah, what do you need?"

"Can you…will you stay with me?"

"Until you get Lily to sleep?"

He shook his head. "No, I want you to stay with me while I sleep. If you don't mind. I just…I need someone with me tonight."

I didn't hesitate before nodding my head. "Yeah," I said. "I can stay."

And I did.

I stayed with him as he fed Lily and rocked her to sleep before putting her into her crib beside his bed. As he crawled under his covers, too exhausted to put on pajamas. I lay down beside him and stayed as he wrapped his arm around me, burying his face into the back of my hair. I stayed as I felt him fall asleep and soon I found myself falling asleep, too.

That night wasn't easy. Lily kept woke up every few hours hungry, wet, or just to cry. I would watch sleepily as Scott danced her around the room in his arms, holding her close to him, and would sing.

"_Sleep my child and peace attend thee all through the night. Guardian angels God will send thee, all through the night. Soft the drowsy hours are creeping, hill and dale in slumber sleeping, I my loved ones' watch am keeping, all through the night Angels watching, e'er around thee, all through the night. Midnight slumber close surround thee, all through the night. Soft the drowsy hours are creeping, hill and dale in slumber sleeping I my loved ones' watch am keeping, all through the night_."

When the morning sun broke over the horizon, I sat in bed with Scott as he rocked Lily softly, and together we watched it rise through his window.

"Let's see if I can make it through today," he whispered in my ear.

I looked at him. "You can," I said quietly. "I'll be right there with you."

He kissed my temple before slipping out of bed and gently placing the baby back in her crib. "Why don't you go get ready?" he said. "The service will start in a couple of hours." I nodded silently and stood from the bed, grabbing my crutches as I did, and tried to walk across the room as quietly as I could so not to disturb Lily. When I made it to the door, Scott met me there. He looked down at me and I could feel so much emotion coming from him. "Thank you, Jayden."

"You don't have to thank me Scott. I'm just sorry I can't help more."

He gave me a tired, weak smile. "You've helped more than you know."

He bent his head and pressed his lips lightly against mine, kissing me. It wasn't a romantic kiss. It was one full of heartache, and grief, and pain, and sorrow. He knew I couldn't stay and wait for him to get over Jean again this time; he was letting me go.

I left his room, but instead of going to mine to get ready for the funeral, I continued down the hall to Logan's. I knocked on the door lightly and only a few moments later he answered. He didn't say anything as I walked into his room. As I threw my crutches to the floor. As I buried my face into his chest and cried harder than I had cried in months. He just wrapped his arms around me and held me to him.

I realized then something that Logan had been trying to teach me; that life isn't always right, or fair. And part of growing up was being able to accept that. To know that no matter what you did, no matter how hard you tried, everybody has to hurt at some point. I didn't know who controlled everything in the universe; I was just as lost on that as I had ever been. I didn't know if things happened for a reason or if they just _happened_. But I did know that when they do, we have to make a choice to either learn from them and grow, or pretend it doesn't affect us and, eventually, fall apart. We have to decide if we're going to let it control us, _destroy_ us.

When I had first started training with Logan, I had a hard time when I would fail. I couldn't stand messing up. But when I would fall, Logan would always tell me to get back up, shake it off, and keep going at it. At some of the worst moments in my life, I would hear him telling me to get back up, to keep on going.

And I realized that _that_ was life. One decision to keep going, despite the odds, and knowing that you _can_ survive.

Know thyself.

That's what Socrates told us. But it's better to spend our time getting to know other people. Finding ourselves in others. Finding people that we love and who love us in return, just for who we are. Even if it means getting hurt. Pain is a part of life, it's what reminds us that we're all human, but it's what we decide to do with the pain that make us who we are. And I learned that I would rather love and lose someone than to have never have known that feeling and remained numb my whole life.

But over time I realized that when we love something, it doesn't go away, it's always with us, we just have to know where to look. I also learned that sometimes, things don't always end the way we think they will. Sometimes, it's not the ending at all; it's actually only just the beginning.


End file.
